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MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



THE LIFE 



OF 



MARIE Al^TOmETTE, 



QUEEN OF FRANCE. 



By CHARLES DUKE YONGE, 

EEGIUS PROFESSOR OF MODERN HISTORY AND ENGLISH LITEEATDRE IN QUEEN'S COLLEGE, 
BELFAST; AUTHOR OF "THE HISTORY OF THE BRITISH NAVY," ETC 



.«?<—- ^vJ/ 





S^VVASH'. 

NEW YORK: 

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 



FRANKLIN SQUARE. 



1876. 



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PREFACE. 



The principal authorities for the following work are the four vol- 
umes of Correspondence published by M. Arneth, and the six vol- 
umes published by M. Feuillet de Conches. M. Arneth's two collec- 
tions* contain not only a number of letters which passed between 
the queen, her mother the Empress-queen (Maria Teresa), and her 
brothers Joseph and Leopold, who successively became emperors 
after the death of their father ; but also a regular series of letters 
from the imperial embassador at Paris, the Count Mercy d'Argen- 
teau, which may almost be said to form a complete history of the 
court of France, especially in all the transactions in which Marie 
Antoinette, whether as dauphiness or queen, was concerned, till the 
death of Maria Teresa, at Christmas, 1780. The correspondence 
with her two brothers, the emperors Joseph and Leopold, only 
ceases with the death of the latter in March, 1792. 

The collection published by M. Feuillet de Conchesf has been 
vehemently attacked, as containing a series of clever forgeries rath- 
er than of genuine letters. And there does seem reason to believe 
that in a few instances, chiefly in the earlier portion of the corre- 
spondence, the critical acuteness of the editor was imposed upon, 
and that some of the letters inserted were not written by the persons 
alleged to be the authors. But of the majority of the letters there 
seems no solid ground for questioning the authenticity. Indeed, in 
the later and more important portion of the correspondence, that 
which belongs to the period after the death of the Empress-queen, 
the genuineness of the Queen's letters is continually supported by 
the collection of M. Arneth, who has himself published many of them, 
having found them in the archives at Vienna, where M. F. de Conches 
had previously copied them,J and who refers to others, the publica- 

* One entitled " Marie- Antoinette, correspondanee secrete entre Marie- 
Therese et le Comte Mercy d'Argenteau, avec des lettres de Marie-Therese 
et de Marie- Antoinette." (The edition referred to in tiiis work is the great- 
ly enlarged second edition in three volumes, published at Paris, 1875.) The 
second is entitled " Marie- Antoinette, Joseph II., und Leopold II," publish- 
ed at Leipsic, 1866. 

t Entitled "Louis XVI., Marie-Antoinette, et Madame Elizabeth," in six 
volumes, published at intervals from 1864 to 1873. 

X In his "Nouveau Lundi," March .5th, 1866, M. Sainte-Beuve challenged 
M. Feuillet de Conches to a more explicit defense of the authenticity of his 
collection than he had yet vouchsafed ; complaining, with some reason, that 



6 PREFACE. 

tion of which did not come within his own plan. M. Feuillet de 
Conches' work also contains narratives of some of the most imjoor- 
tant transactions after the commencement of the Revolution,' which 
are of great value, as having been compiled from authentic sources. 
Besides these collections, the author has consulted the lives of 
Marie Antoinette by Montjoye, Lafont d'Aussoune, Chambrier, and 
the MM. Goncourt ; " La Vraie Marie Antoinette " of M. Lescure ; the 
Memoirs of Mme. Campan, Cl^ry, Hue, the Duchesse d'Angoulfeme, 
Bertrand de Moleville ("M6moires Particuliers"),the Comtede Tilly, 
the Baron de Besenval, the Marquis de la Fayette, the Marquise de 
Cr6quy, the Princesse Lamballe ; the " Souvenirs de Quarante Ans," by 
Mile, de Tourzel; the "Diary" of M. cle Viel Castel; the correspond- 
ence of Mme. du Deffand ; the account of the affair of the necklace 
by M. de Campardon ; the very valuable correspondence between the 
Count de la Marck and Mirabeau, which also contains a narrative by 
the Count de la Marck of many very important incidents ; Dumont's 
" Souvenirs sur Mirabeau ;" " Beaumarchais et son Temps," by M. de 
Lom6nie; "Gustavus III. et la Cour de Paris," by M. Geoffroy; the 
first seven volumes of the Histoire de la Terreur, by M. Mortimer 
Ternaux ; Dr. Moore's journal of liis visit to France, and view of the 
French Revolution ; and a great number of other works in which 
there is cursory mention of different incidents, especially in the ear- 
lier part of the Revolution; such as the journals of Arthur Young, 
Madame de Stael's elaborate treatise on the Revolution ; several ar- 
ticles in the last series of the "Causeries de Lundi," by Sainte-Beuve, 
and others in the Bevue cles Deux Mondes, etc., etc., and to those may 
of course be added the regular histories of Lacretelle, Sismondi, Mar- 
tin, and Lamartine's " History of the Girondins." 



his delay in answering tlie charges brought against it "was the more vexa- 
tious because his collection was only attacked in part, and in many points 
remained solid and valuable." And this challenge elicited from M. F. de 
Conches a very elaborate explanation of the sources from which he pro- 
cured his documents, which he published in the Bevue des Deux Mondes, 
July 15th, 1866, and afterward in the Preface to his fourth volume. That in a 
collection of nearly a thousand documents he may have occasionally been 
too credulous in accepting cleverly executed forgeries as genuine letters is 
possible, and even probable; in fact, the present writer regards it as certain. 
But the vast majority, including all those of the greatest value, can not be 
questioned without imputing to him a guilty knowledge that they were 
forgeries— a deliberate bad faith, of which no one, it is believed, has ever ac- 
cused him. 

It may be added that it is only from the letters of this later period that 
any quotations are made in the following work ; and the greater part of the 
letters so cited exists in the archives at Vienna, while the others, such as 
those addressed by the Queen to Madame de Polignac, etc., are just such as 
were sure to be preserved as relics by the families of those to whom they 
were addressed, and -can therefore hardly be considered as liable to the slight- 
est suspicion. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER L 



Importance of Marie Antoinette in tlie Revolution. — Value of lier Corres- 
pondence as a Means of estimating her Character. — Her Birth, Novem- 
ber 2d, 1*755. — Epigram of Metastasio. — Habits of the Imperial Family. 
— Schonbrunn. — Death of the Emperor. — Projects for the Marriage of 
the Archduchess. — Her Education. — The Abbe de Vermond. — Metastasio. 
— Gluck Page 17 

CHAPTER II. 

Proposal for the Marriage of Marie Antoinette to the Dauphin. — Early Edu- 
cation of the Dauphin. — The Archduchess leaves Vienna in April, 1770. — 
Her Reception at Strasburg. — She meets the King at Compifegne. — The 
Marriage takes place May 16th, 1770 24 

CHAPTER III. 

Feelings in Germany and France on the Subject of the Marriage. — Letter of 
Maria Teresa to the Dauphin. — Characters of the Different Members of the 
Royal Family.— Difficulties which beset Marie Antoinette. — Maria Teresa's 
Letter of Advice. — The Comte de Mercy is sent as Embassador to France 
to act as the Adviser of the Dauphiness. — The Princesse de Lorraine at 
the State Ball. — A Great Disaster takes place at the Fire-works in Paris. — 
The Peasant at Fontainebleau. — Marie Antoinette pleases the King. — De- 
scription of her Personal Appearance. — Mercy's Report of the Impression 
she made on her First Arrival 33 

CHAPTER IV. 

Marie Antoinette gives her Mother her First Impressions of the Court and 
of her own Position and Prospects. — Court Life at Versailles. — Marie An- 
toinette shows her Dislike of Etiquette. — Character of the Due d'Aiguillon. 
— Cabals against the Dauphiness. — Jealousy of Mme. du Barri. — The 
Aunts, too, are Jealous of Her. — She becomes more and more Popular. — 
Parties for Donkey-riding. — Scantiness of the Dauphiness's Income. — Her 
Influence over the King. — The Due de Choiseul is dismissed. — She begins 
to have Great Influence over the Dauphin 42 



8 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER V. 

Mercy's Correspondence with the Empress. — Distress and Discontent pervade 
France. — Goldsmith predicts a Revolution. — Apathy of the King. — The 
Aunts mislead Marie Antoinette. — Maria Teresa hears that the Dauphiness 
neglects her German Visitors. — Marriage of the Count de Provence. — Grow- 
ing Preference of Louis XV. for the Dauphiness. — The Dauphiness applies 
herself to Study. — Marie Antoinette becomes a Horsewoman. — Her Kind- 
ness to all beneath her. — Cabals of the Adherents of the Mistress. — The 
Royal Family become united. — Concei'ts in the Apartments of the Dau- 
phiness Page 56 

CHAPTER VI. 

Marie Antoinette wishes to see Paris. — Intrigues of Madame Adelaide. — Char- 
acters of the Dauphin and the Count de Provence. — Grand Review at Fon- 
tainebleau. — Marie Antoinette in the Hunting Field. — Letter from her to 
the Empress. — Mischievous Influence of the Dauphin's Aunts on her Char- 
acter. — Letter of Marie Antoinette to the Empress. — Her Affection for her 
Old Home. — The Princes are recalled from Exile. — Lord Stormont. — Great 
Fire at the Hotel-Dieu. — Liberality and Charity of Marie Antoinette. — She 
goes to the Bal d'Opera. — Her FeeUngs about the Partition of Poland. — 
The King discusses Politics with her, and thinks highly of her AbiUty. . 66 

CHAPTER Vn. 

Marie Antoinette is anxious for the Maintenance of the Alliance between 
France and Austria. — She, with the Dauphin, makes a State Entry into 
Paris. — The " Dames de la Halle." — She praises the Courtesy of the Dau- 
phin. — Her Delight at the Enthusiasm of the Citizens. — She, with the Dau- 
phin, goes to the Theatre, and to the Fair of St. Ovide, and to St. Cloud. — 
Is enthusiastic illy received everywhere. — She learns to drive. — She makes 
some Relaxations in Etiquette. — Marriage of the Comte d'Artois. — The 
King's Health grows Bad. — Visit of Marshal Lacy to Versailles. — The King 
catches the Small-pox. — Madame du Barri quits Versailles. — The King 
dies Ve 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Court leaves Versailles for La Muette. — Feelings of the New Sovereigns. 
— Madame du Barri is sent to a Convent. — Marie Antoinette writes to Maria 
Teresa. — The Good Intentions of the New Sovereigns. — Madame Adelaide 
has the Small-pox. — Anxieties of Maria Teresa. — Mischievous Influence of 
the Aunts. — Position and Influence of the Count de Mercy. — Louis consults 
the Queen on Matters of Policy. — Her Prudence. — She begins to Purify the 
Court, and to relax the Rules of Etiquette. — Her Care of her Pages. — The 
King and she renounce the Gifts of Le Joyeux Avenement, and La Cein- 
ture de la Reine. — She procures the Pai'don of the Due de Choiseul 87 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Comte de Provence intrigues against the Queen. — The King gives her the 
Little Trianon. — She lays out an English Garden. — Maria Teresa cautions 



CONTENTS. 9 

her against Expense. — The King and Queen abohsh some of the Old Forms. 
— The Queen endeavors to establish Friendships with some of her Younger 
Ladies. — They abuse her Favor. — Her Eagerness for Amusement. — Louis 
enters into her Views. — Etiquette is abridged. — Private Parties at Choisy. 
— Supper Parties. — Opposition of the Princesses. — Some of the Courtiers 
are dissatisfied at the Eelaxation of Etiquette. — Marie Antoinette is ac- 
cused of Austrian Preferences Page 97 

CHAPTER X. 

Settlement of the Queen's Allowance. — Character and Views of Turgot. — 
She induces Gluck to visit Paris. — Performance of his Opera of " Iphigenie 
en Aulide." — The First Encore. — Marie Antoinette advocates the Re-estab- 
lishment of the Parliaments, and receives an Address from them. — Enghsh 
Visitors at the Court. — The King is compared to Louis XII. and Henri IV. 
— The Archduke Maximilian visits his Sister. — Factious Conduct of the 
Princes of the Blood. — Anti - Austrian Feeling in Paris. — The War of 
Grains. — The King is crowned at Rheims. — Feelings of Marie Antoinette. 
— Her Improvements at the Trianon. — Her Garden Parties there. — De- 
scrijition of her Beauty by Burke, and by Horace Walpole 107 

CHAPTER XL 

Tea is introduced. — Horse-racing of Count d'Artois. — Marie Antoinette goes 
to see it. — The Queen's Submissiveness to the Reproofs of the Empress. — 
Birth of the Due d'Angouleme. — She at times speaks lightly of the King. — 
The Emperor remonstrates with her. — Character of some of the Queen's 
Friends. — The Princess de Lamballe. — The Countess Jules de Pohgnac. — 
They set the Queen against Turgot. — She procures his Dismissal. — She 
gratifies Madame Polignac's Friends. — Her Regard for the French Peo- 
ple. — Water Parties on the Seine. — Her Health is Delicate. — Gambling at 
the Palace 119 

CHAPTER XII. 

Marie Antoinette finds herself in Debt. — Forgeries of her Name are com- 
mitted. — The Queen devotes herself too much to Madame de Polignac and 
others. — Versailles is less frequented. — Remonstrances of the Empress. — 
Volatile Character of the Queen. — She goes to the Bals d'Opera at Paris. — 
She receives the Duke of Dorset and other English Nobles with Favor. — 
Grand Entertainment given her by the Count de Provence. — Character of 
the Emperor Joseph. — He visits Paris and Versailles. — His Feelings to- 
ward and Conversations with the King and Queen. — He goes to the Opera. 
— His Opinion of the Queen's Friends. — Marie Antoinette's Letter to the 
Empress on his Departure. — The Emperor leaves her a Letter of Ad- 
vice 129 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Impressions made on the Queen by the Emperor's Visit. — Mutual Jealousies 
of her Favorites. — The Story of the Chevaher d'Assas. — The Terrace Con- 
certs at Versailles. — More Inroads on Etiquette. — Insolence and Unpopu- 
larity of the Count d'Artois. — Marie Antoinette takes Interest in Politics. 



10 CONTENTS. 

— France concludes an Alliance with the United States. — AfPairs of Bava- 
ria. — Character of the Queen's Letters on Politics. — The Queen expects to 
become a Mother. — Voltaire returns to Paris. — The Queen declines to re- 
ceive him. — Misconduct of the Duke of Orleans in the Action ofE Ushant. — 
The Queen uses her Influence in his Favor Page 141 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Birth of Madame Royale. — Festivities of Thanksgiving. — The Dames de la 
Halle at the Theatre. — Thanksgiving at Notre Dame. — The King goes to a 
Bal d'Ope'ra. — The Queen's Carriage breaks down. — Marie Antoinette has the 
Measles. — Her Anxiety about the War. — Retrenchments of Expense... 155 

CHAPTER XV. 

Anglomania in Paris. — The Winter at Versailles. — Hunting. — Private The- 
atricals. — Death of Prince Charles of Lorraine. — Successes of the English 
in America. — Education of the Due d' Angouleme. — Libelous Attacks on the 
Queen. — Death of the Empress. — Favor shown some of the Swedish Nobles. 
— The Count deFersen. — Necker retires from Office. — His Character... 167 

CHAPTER XVL 

The Queen expects to be confined again. — Increasing Unpopularity of the 
King's Brothers. — Birth of the Dauphin. — Festivities. — Deputations from 
the Different Trades. — Songs of the Dames de la Halle. — Ball given by the 
Body-guard. — Unwavering Fidelity of the Regiment. — The Queen offers up 
her Thanksgiving at Notre Dame. — Banquet at the Hotel de Ville. — Re- 
joicings in Paris 176 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Madame de Guimenee resigns the Office of Governess of the Royal Children. 
— Madame de Pohgnac succeeds her. — Marie Antoinette's Views of Educa- 
tion. — Character of Madame Royale. — The Grand Duke Paul and his Grand 
Duchess visit the French Court. — Their Characters. — Entertainments given 
in their Honor. — Insolence of the Cardinal de Rohan. — His Character and 
previous Life. — Grand Festivities at Chantilly. — Events of the War. — Rod- 
ney defeats De Grasse. — The Siege of Gibraltar fails. — M. de Suffrein fights 
five Drawn Battles with Sir E. Hughes in the Indian Seas. — The Queen re- 
ceives him with Great Honor on his Return 184 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Peace is re-estabhshed. — Embarrassments of the Ministry. — Distress of the 
Kingdom. — M. de Calonne becomes Finance Ministei". — The Winter of 
l'783-'84 is very Severe. — The Queen devotes Large Sums to Charity. — Her 
Political Influence increases. — Correspondence between the Emperor and 
her on European Politics. — The State of France. — The Baron de Breteuil. — 
Her Description of the Character of the King 194 

CHAPTER XIX. 
"The Marriage of Figaro." — Previous History and Character of Beaumar- 
chais. — The Performance of the Play is forbidden. — It is said to be a little 



CONTENTS. 11 

altered. — It is licensed. — Displeasure of the Queen. — Visit of Gustavus III. 
of Sweden. — Fete at the Trianon. — Balloon Ascent Page 202 

CHAPTER XX. 

St. Cloud is purchased for the Queen. — Libelous Attacks on her. — Birth of 
the Due de Normandie. — Joseph presses her to make France support his 
Views in the Low Countries. — The Affair of the Necklace. — Share which the 
Cardinal de Rohan had in it. — The Queen's Indignation at his Acquittal. — 
Subsequent Career of the Cardinal 210 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The King visits Cherbourg. — Rarity of Royal Journeys. — The Princess 
Christine visits the Queen. — Hostility of the Due d'Orleans to the Queen. — 
Libels on her. — She is called Madame Deficit. — She has a Second Daughter, 
who dies. — 111 Health of the Dauphin. — Unskillfulness and Extravagance of 
Calonne's System of Finance. — Distress of the Kingdom. — He assembles 
the Notables. — They oppose his Plans. — Letters of Marie Antoinette on the 
Subject. — Her Ideas of the English Parhament. — Dismissal of Calonne. — 
Character of Archbishop Lomenie de Brienne. — Obstinacy of Necker. — 
The Archbishop is appointed Minister. — The Distress increases. — The Not- 
ables are dissolved. — Violent Opposition of the Parliament. — Resemblance 
of the French Revolution to the English Rebellion of 1642. — Arrest of 
D'Espremesnil and Montsabert 223 

CHAPTER XXn. 

Formidable Riots take place in some Provinces. — The Archbishop invites 
Necker to join his Ministry. — Letter of Marie Antoinette describing her 
Interview with the Archbishop, and her Views. — Necker refuses. — The 
Queen sends Messages to Necker. — The Archbishop resigns, and Necker 
becomes Minister. — The Queen's View of his Character. — Genei'al Rejoicing. 
— Defects in Necker's Character. — He recalls the Parliament. — Riots in 
Paris. — Severe Winter. — General Distress. — Charities of the King and 
Queen. — Gratitude of the Citizens. — The Princes are concerned in the Li- 
bels published against the Queen. — Preparations for the Meeting of the 
States-general. — Long Disuse of that Assembly. — Need of Reform. — Vices 
of the Old Feudal System. — Necker's Blunders in the Arrangements for the 
Meeting of the States. — An Edict of the King concedes the Chief Demands 
of the Commons. — Views of the Queen 234 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Reveillon Riot. — Opening of the States-general. — The Queen is insulted 
by the Partisans of the Due d'Orleans. — Discussions as to the Number of 
Chambers. — Career and Character of Mirabeau. — Necker rejects his Sup- 
port. — He determines to revenge himself. — Death of the Dauphin 24V 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Troops are brought up from the Frontier. — The Assembly petitions the King 
to withdraw them. — He refuses. — He dismisses Necker. — The Baron de 
Breteuil is appointed Prime Minister. — Terrible Riots in Paris. — The Tri- 



12 CONTENTS. 

color Flag is adopted. — Storming of the Bastile and Murder of the Gov- 
ernor. — The Count d'Artois and other Princes fly from the Kingdom. — The 
King recalls Necker. — Withdraws the Soldiers and visits Paris. — Forma- 
tion of the National Guard. — Insolence of La Fayette and Bailly. — Madame 
de Tourzel becomes Governess of the Royal Children. — Letters of Marie An- 
toinette on their Character, and on her own Views of Education.... Pa^e 257 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Necker resumes Office. — Outrages in the Provinces. — Pusillanimity of the 
Body of the Nation. — Parties in the Assembly. — Views of the Constitu- 
tionalists or "Plain." — Barnave makes Overtures to the Court. — The 
Queen rejects them. — The Assembly abolishes all Privileges, August 
4th. — Debates on the Veto. — An Attack on Versailles is threatened. — 
Great Scai'city in Paris. — The King sends his Plate to be melted down. — 
The Regiment of Flanders is brought up to Versailles. — A Military Ban- 
quet is held in the Opera-house. — October 5th, a Mob from Paris marches 
on Versailles. — Blunders of La Fayette. — Ferocity of the Mob on the 5th. 
— Attack on the Palace on the 6th. — Danger and Heroism of the Queen. — 
The Royal Family remove to Paris. — Their Reception at the Barrier and 
at the Hotel de Ville. — Shabbiness of the Tuileries. — The King fixes his 
Residence there 270 

CHAPTER XXVL 

Feelings of Marie Antoinette on coming to the Tuileries. — Her Tact in win- 
ning the Hearts of the Common People. — Mirabeau changes his Views. — 
Quarrel between La Fayette and the Due d'Orleans. — Mirabeau desires to 
offer his Services to the Queen. — Riots in Paris. — Murder of Fran9ois. — 
The Assembly pass a Vote prohibiting any Member from taking Office. — 
The Emigration. — Death of the Emperor Joseph IL — Investigation into 
the Riots of October. — The Queen refuses to give Evidence. — Violent Pro- 
ceedings in the Assembly. — Execution of the Marquis de Favras 287 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The King accepts the Constitution so far as it has been settled. — The Queen 
makes a Speech to the Deputies. — She is well received at the Theatre. — 
Negotiations with Mirabeau. — The Queen's Views of the Position of Affairs. 
— The Jacobin Club denounces Mirabeau. — Deputation of Anacharsis 
Clootz. — Demohtion of the Statue of Louis XIV. — Abolition of Titles of 
Honor. — The Queen admits Mirabeau to an Audience. — His Admiration of 
her Courage and Talents. — Anniversary of the Capture of the Bastile. — 
Fete of the Champ de Mars. — Presence of Mind of the Queen 299 

CHAPTER XXVIIL 

Great Tumults in the Provinces. — Mutiny in the Marquis de Bouille's Army. — 
Disorder of the Assembly. — Difficulty of managing Mirabeau. — Mercy is re- 
moved to The Hague. — Marie Antoinette sees constant Changes in the As- 
pect of Affairs. — Marat denounces Her. — Attempts are made to assas- 
sinate Her. — Resignation of Mirabeau. — Misconduct of the Emigrant 
Princes 310 



CONTENTS. 13 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

Louis and Marie Antoinette contemplate Foreign Intervention. — Tiie Assem- 
bly passes Laws to subordinate tlie Churcii to the Civil Power. — Insolence 
of La Fayette. — Marie Antoinette refuses to quit France by Herself. — The 
Jacobins and La Fayette try to revive the Story of the Necklace. — Marie An- 
toinette with her Family. — Fhght from Paris is decided on. — The Queen's 
Preparations and Views. — An Oath to observe the new Ecclesiastical Consti- 
tution is imposed on the Clergy. — The King's Aunts leave France... Pa^e 320 

CHAPTER XXX. 

The Mob attacks the Castle at Vincennes. — La Fayette saves it. — He insults 
the Nobles who come to protect the King. — Perverseness of the Count d'Ar- 
tois and the Emigrants. — Mirabeau dies. — General Sorrow for his Death. — 
He would probably not have been able to arrest the Revolution. — The Mob 
prevent the King from visiting St. Cloud. — The Assembly passes a Vote to 
forbid him to go more than twenty Leagues from Paris 331 

CHAPTER XXXL 

Plans for the Escape of the Royal Family. — Dangers of Discovery. — Resolu- 
tion of the Queen. — The Royal Family leave the Palace. — They are rec- 
ognized at Ste. Menehould. — Are arrested at Varennes. — Tumult in the 
City, and in the Assembly. — The King and Queen are brought back to 
Paris 341 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Marie Antoinette's Feelings on her Return. — She sees Hopes of Improve- 
ment. — The lYth of July. — The Assembly inquire into the King's Conduct 
on leaving Paris. — They resolve that there is no Reason for taking Pro- 
ceedings. — Excitement in Foreign Countries. — The Assembly proceeds to 
complete the Constitution. — It declares all the Members Incapable of Elec- 
tion to the New Assembly. — Letters of Marie Antoinette to the Emperor 
and to Mercy. — The Declaration of Pilnitz. — The King accepts the Con- 
stitution. — Insults offered to him at the Festival of the Champ de Mars. — 
And to the Queen at the Theatre. — The First or Constituent Assembly is 
dissolved 352 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Composition of the New Assembly. — Rise of the Girondins. — Their Corrup- 
tion and Eventual Fate. — Vergniaud's Motions against the King. — Favora- 
ble Reception of the King at the Assembly, and at the Opera. — Changes in 
the Ministry. — The King's and Queen's Language to M. Bertrand de Mole- 
ville. — The Count de Narbonne. — Petion is elected Mayor of Paris. — Scar- 
city of Money, and Great Hardships of the Royal Family. — Presents arrive 
from Tippoo Sahib. — The Dauphin. — The Assembly passes Decrees against 
the Priests and the Emigrants. — Misconduct of the Emigrants. — Louis re- 
fuses his Assent to the Decrees. — He issues a Circular condemning Emi- 
gration ^...^. 369 



14 CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Death of Leopold. — Murder of Gustavus of Sweden. — Violence of Vergniaud. 
— The Ministers resign. — A Girondin Ministry is appointed. — Character of 
Dumouriez. — Origin of the Name Sans-culottes. — Union of Different Parties 
against the Queen. — War is declared against the Empire. — Operations in 
the Netherlands. — Unskillfulness of La Fayette. — The King falls into a 
State of Torpor. — Fresh Libels on the Queen. — Barnave's Advice. — Du- 
mouriez has an Audience of the Queen. — Dissolution of the Constitutional 
Guard. — Formation of a Camp near Paris. — Louis adheres to his Refusal 
to assent to the Decree against the Priests. — Dumouriez resigns his Office, 
and takes command of the Army Page 382 

CHAPTER XXXV. 
The Insurrection of June 20th 395 

CHAPTER XXXVL 

Feelings of Marie Antoinette. — Different Plans are formed for her Escape. — 
She hopes for Aid from Austria and Prussia. — La Fayette comes to Paris. 
— His Mismanagement. — An Attempt is made to assassinate the Queen. — 
The Motion of Bishop Lamourette. — The Feast of the Federation. — La Fay- 
ette proposes a Plan for the King's Escape. — Bertrand proposes Another. 
— Both are rejected by the Queen 404 

CHAPTER XXXVIL 

Preparation for a New Insurrection. — Barbaroux brings up a Gang from Mar- 
seilles. — The King's last Levee. — The Assembly rejects a Motion for the 
Impeachment of La Fayette. — It removes some Regiments from Paris. — 
Preparations of the Court for Defense. — The 10th of August. — The City 
is in Insurrection. — Murder of Mandat. — Louis reviews the Guards. — He 
takes Refuge with the Assembly. — Massaci'e of the Swiss Guards. — Sack 
of the Tuileries. — Discussions in the Assembly. — The Royal Authority is 
suspended 415 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Indignities to which the Royal Family are subjected. — They are removed to 
the Temple. — Divisions in the Assembly. — Flight of La Fayette. — Advance 
of the Prussians. — Lady Sutherland supplies the Dauphin with Clothes. — 
Mode of Life in the Temple. — The Massacres of September. — The Death of 
the Princess de Lamballe. — Insults are heaped on the King and Queen. 
— The Trial of the King. — His Last Interview with his Family. — His 
Death 430 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

The Queen is refused Leave to see Clery. — Madame Royale is taken 111. — 
Plans are formed for the Queen's Escape by MM. Jarjayes, Toulan, and by 
the Baron de Batz. — Marie Antoinette refuses to leave her Son. — Illness 
of the young King. — Overthrow of the Girondins. — Insanity of the Woman 



CONTENTS. 15 

Tison. — Kindness of the Queen to her. — Her Son is talcen from her, and 
intrusted to Simon. — His Ill-treatment. — The Queen is removed to the Con- 
ciergerie. — She is tried before the Revolutionary Tribunal. — She is con- 
demned. — Her last Letter to the Princess Elizabeth. — Her Death and Char- 
acter Page 44:2 

INDEX 463 



LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER I. 

Importance of Marie Antoinette in the Revolution. — Value of her Correspond- 
ence as a Means of estimating her Character. — Her Birth, November 2d, 
1755. — Epigram of Metastasio. — Habits of the Imperial Family. — Schon- 
brunn. — Death of the Emperor. — Projects for the Marriage of the Arch- 
duchess. — Her Education. — The Abbe de Vermond. — Metastasio. — Gluck. 

The most striking event in the annals of modern Europe is 
unquestionably the French Revolution of 1789 — a Revolution 
which, in one sense, may be said to be still in progress, but which, 
in a more limited view, may be regarded as having been consum- 
mated by the deposition and murder of the sovereign of the 
country. It is equally undeniable that, during its first period, the 
person who most attracts and rivets attention is the queen. One 
of the most brilliant of modern . French writers* has recently re- 
marked that, in spite of the number of years which have elapsed 
since the grave closed over the sorrows of Marie Antoinette, and 
of the almost unbroken series of exciting events which have mark- 
ed the annals of France in the interval, the interest excited by her 
story is as fresh and engrossing as ever ; that such as Hecuba and 
Andromache were to the ancients, objects never named to inat- 
tentive ears, never contemplated without lively sympathy, such 
still is their hapless queen to all honest and intelligent French- 
men. It may even be said that that interest has increased of late 
years. The respectful and remorseful pity which her fate could 
not fail to awaken has been quickened by the publication of her 
correspondence with her family and intimate friends, which has 
laid bare, without disguise, all her inmost thoughts and fee^ir -, 
her errors as well as her good deeds, her weaknesses equally a 

* Sainte-Beuve, "Nouveaux Lundis," August 8th, 1864. 
2 



18 LIFE OF MAEIF ANTOINETTE. 

her virtues. Few, indeed, even of those "whom the world regards 
with its highest favor and esteem, could endure such an ordeal 
without some diminution of their fame. Yet it is but recording 
the general verdict of all whose judgment is of value, to affirm 
that Marie Antoinette has triumphantly surmounted it ; and that 
the result of a scrutiny as minute and severe as any to which a 
human being has ever been subjected, has been greatly to raise 
her reputation. 

Not that she was one of those paragons whom painters of mod- 
el heroines have delighted to imagine to themselves ; one who 
from childhood gave manifest indications of excellence and great- 
ness, and whose whole life was but a steady progressive develop- 
ment of its early promise. She was rather one in whom adver- 
sity brought forth great qualities, her possession of which, had 
her life been one of that unbroken sunshine which is regarded by 
many as the natural and inseparable attendant of royalty, might 
never have been even suspected. We meet Avith her first, at an 
age scarcely advanced beyond childhood, transported from her 
school-room to a foreign court, as wife to the heir of one of the 
noblest kingdoms of Europe. And in that situation we see her 
for a while a light-hearted, merry girl, annoyed rather than elated 
by her new magnificence ; thoughtless, if not frivolous, in her pur- 
suits ; fond of dress ; eager in her appetite for amusement, tem- 
pered only by an innate purity of feeling which never deserted 
her ; the brightest features of her character being apparently a 
frank affability, and a genuine and active kindness and humanity 
which were displayed to all classes and on all occasions. We see 
her presently as queen, hardly yet arrived at womanhood, little 
changed in disposition or in outward demeanor, though profiting 
to the utmost by the opportunities which her increased power af- 
forded her of proving the genuine tenderness of her heart, by 
munificent and judicious works of charity and benevolence ; and 
exerting her authority, if possible, still more beneficially by pro- 
tecting virtue, discountenancing vice, and purifying a court whose 
shameless profligacy had for many generations been the scandal 
of Christendom. It is probable, indeed, that much of her early 
levity was prompted by a desire to drive from her mind disap- 
pointments and mortifications of which few suspected the exist- 
ence, but which were only the more keenly felt because she was 
compelled to keep them to herself ; but it is certain that during 
the first eight or ten years of her residence in France there was 



DIFFERENT PERIODS OF HER LIFE. 19 

little in her habits and conduct, however amiable and attractive, 
which could have led her warmest friends to discern in her the 
high qualities which she was destined to exhibit before its close. 

Presently, however, she becomes a mother; and in this new 
relation we begin to perceive glimpses of a loftier nature. From 
the moment of the birth of her first child, she performed those 
new duties which, perhaps more than any others, call forth all the 
best and most peculiar virtues of the female heart in such a man- 
ner as to add esteem and respect to the good-will which her affa- 
bility and courtesy had already inspired ; recognizing to the full 
the claims which the nation had upon her, that she should, in per- 
son, superintend the education of her children, and especially of 
her son as its future ruler ; and discharging that sacred duty, not 
only with the most affectionate solicitude, but also with the most 
admirable judgment. 

But years so spent were years of happiness ; and, though such 
may suffice to display the amiable virtues, it is by adversity that 
the grander qualities of the head and heart are more strikingly 
drawn forth. To the trials of that stern inquisitress, Marie An- 
toir>eJ:te was fully exposed in her later years; and not only did 
she rise above them, but the more terrible and unexampled they 
were, the more conspicuous was the superiority of her mind to 
fortune. It is no exaggeration to say that the history of the 
whole world has preserved no record of greater heroism, in either 
sex, than was shown by Marie Antoinette during the closing years 
of her life. No courage was ever put to the proof by such a va- 
riety and such an accumulation of dangers and miseries ; and no 
one ever came out of an encounter with even far inferior calami- 
ties with greater glory. Her moral courage and her physical 
courage were equally tried. It was not only that her own life, 
and lives far dearer to her than her own, were exposed to daily 
and hourly peril, or that to this danger Avere added repeated vexa- 
tions of hopes baffled and trusts betrayed ; but these griefs were 
largely aggravated by the character and conduct of those nearest 
to her. Instead of meeting with counsel and support from her 
husband and his brothers, she had to guide and support Louis 
himself, and even to find him so incurably weak as to be incapa- 
ble of being kept in the path of wisdom by her sagacity, or of 
deriving vigor from her fortitude ; while the princes were acting 
in selfish and disloyal opposition to him, and so, in a great de- 
gree, sacrificing him and her to their perverse conceit, if we may 



20 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

not say to their faithless ambition. She had to think for all, to 
act for all, to struggle for all ; and to bear up against the convic- 
tion that her thoughts, and actions, and struggles were being balk- 
ed of their efEect by the very persons for whom she was exerting 
herself; that she was but laboring to save those who would not 
be saved. Yet, throughout that protracted agony of more than 
four years she bore herself with an unswerving righteousness of 
purpose and an unfaltering fearlessness of resolution which could 
not have been exceeded had she been encouraged by the most 
constant success. And in the last terrible hours, when the mon- 
sters who had already murdered her husband were preparing the 
same fate for herself, she met their hatred and ferocity with 
a loftiness of spirit which even hopelessness could not subdue. 
Long before, she had declared that she had learned, from the ex- 
ample of her mother, not to fear death ; and she showed that this 
was no empty boast when she rose in the last scenes of her life as 
much even above her earlier displays of courage and magnanimity 
as she also rose above the utmost malice of her vile enemies. 

Marie Antoinette Josephe Jeanne was the youngest daughter of 
Francis, originally Duke of Lorraine, afterward Grand Duke of 
Tuscany, and eventually Emperor of Germany, and of Maria Te- 
resa, Archduchess of Austria, Queen of Hungary and Bohemia, 
more generally known, after the attainment of the imperial dig- 
nity by her husband in 1745, as the Empress - queen. Of her 
brothers, two, Joseph and Leopold, succeeded in turn to the im- 
perial dignity ; and one of her sisters, Caroline, became the wife 
of the King of Naples. She was born on the 2d of November, 
1755, a day which, when her later years were darkened by mis- 
fortune, was often referred to as having foreshadowed it by its 
evil omens, since it was that on which the terrible earthquake 
which laid Lisbon in ruins reached its height. But, at the time, 
the Viennese rejoiced too sincerely at every event which could 
contribute to their sovereign's happiness to pay any regard to the 
calamities of another capital, and the courtly poet was but giving 
utterance to the unanimous feeling of her subjects when he spoke 
of the princess's birth as calculated to diffuse universal joy. 
Daughters had been by far the larger part of Maria Teresa's fam- 
ily, so that she was, consequently, anxious for another son ; and, 
knowing her wishes, the Duke of Tarouka, one of the nobles 
whom she admitted to her intimacy, laid her a small wager that 



HER CHILBHOOD, AND DEATH OF HER FATHER. 21 

they would be realized by the sex of the expected infant. He 
lost his bet, but felt some embarrassment in devising a graceful 
mode of paying it. In his perplexity, he sought the advice of the 
celebrated Metastasio, who had been for some time established at 
Vienna as the favorite poet of the court, and the Italian, with the 
ready wit of his country, at once supplied him with a quatrain, 
which, in her disappointment itself, could find ground for compli- 
ment: 

" lo perdei ; 1' augusta figlia 

A pagar m' ha condannato ; 

Ma s' e ver che a voi somiglia, 

Tutto il mondo ha guadagnato." 

The customs of the imperial court had undergone a great 
change since the death of Charles VI. It had been pre-eminent 
for pompous ceremony, which was thought to become the dignity 
of the sovereign who boasted of being the representative of the 
Roman Caesars. But the Lorraine princes had been bred up in a 
simpler fashion ; and Francis had an innate dislike to all ostenta- 
tion, while Maria Teresa had her attention too constantly fixed on 
matters of solid importance to have much leisure to spare for the 
consideration of trifles. Both husband and wife greatly prefer- 
red to their gorgeous palace at Vienna a smaller house which 
they possessed in the neighborhood, called Schonbrunn, where 
they could lay aside their state, and enjoy the unpretending pleas- 
ures of domestic and rural life, cultivating their garden, and, as far 
as the imperious calls of public affairs would allow them time, 
watching over the education of their children, to whom the exam- 
ple of their own tastes and habits was imperceptibly affording the 
best of all lessons, a preference for simple and innocent pleasures. 

In this tranquil retreat, the childhood of Marie Antoinette was 
happily passed ; her bright looks, which already gave promise of 
future loveliness, her quick intelligence, and her affectionate dis- 
position combining to make her the special favorite of her par- 
ents. It was she whom Francis, when quitting his family in the 
summer of 1764 for that journey to Innspruck which proved his 
last, specially ordered to be brought to him, saying, as if he felt 
some foreboding of his approaching illness, that he must embrace 
her once more before he departed ; and his death, which took 
place before she was nine years old, was the first sorrow which 
ever brought a tear into her eyes. 

The superintendence of her vast empire occupied a greater 



22 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

share of Maria Teresa's attention than the management of her 
family. But as Marie Antoinette grew up, the Empress-queen's 
ambition, ever on the watch to maintain and augment the pros- 
perity of her country, perceived in her child's increasing attrac- 
tions a prospect of cementing more closely an alliance which she 
had contracted some years before, and on which she prided her- 
self the more because it had terminated an enmity of two cent- 
uries and a half. From the day on which Charles V. prevailed 
over Francis I. in the competition for the imperial crown, the atti- 
tude of the Emperor of Germany and of the King of France to 
each other had been one of mutual hostility, which, with but rare 
exceptions, had been greatly in favor of the latter country. The 
very first years of Maria Teresa's own reign had been imbittered 
by the union of France with Prussia in a war which had deprived 
her of an extensive province ; and she regarded it as one of the 
great triumphs of Austrian diplomacy to have subsequently won 
over the French ministry to exchange the friendship of Frederick 
of Prussia for her own, and to engage as her ally in a war which 
had for its object the recovery of the lost Silesia. Silesia was not 
recovered. But she still clung to the French alliance as fondly 
as if the objects which she had originally hoped to gain by it had 
been fully accomplished ; and, as the heir to the French monarchy 
was very nearly of the same age as the young archduchess, she 
began to entertain hopes of uniting the two royal families by a 
marriage which should render the union between the two nations 
indissoluble. She mentioned the project to some of the French 
visitors at her court, whom she thought likely to repeat her con- 
versation on their return to their own country. She took care 
that reports of her daughter's beauty should from time to time 
reach the ears of Louis XV. She had her picture painted by 
French artists. She made a proficiency in the French language 
the principal object of her education ; bringing over some French 
actors to Vienna to instruct her in the graces of elocution, and 
subsequently establishing as her chief tutor a French ecclesiastic, 
the Abbe de Vermond, a man of extensive learning, of excellent 
judgment, and of most conscientious integrity. The appointment 
would have been in every respect a most fortunate one, had it not 
been suggested by Lomenie de Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse, 
who thus laid the abbe under an obligation which was requited, 
to the great injury of France, nearly twenty years afterward, when 
M. de Vermond, who still remained about the person of his royal 



HER EDUCATION. 23 

mistress, had an opportunity of exerting his influence to make the 
archbishop prime minister. 

Not that her studies were confined to French. Metastasio 
taught her Italian ; Ghick, whose recently published opera of " Or- 
feo " had established for him a reputation as one of the greatest 
musicians of the age, gave her lessons on the harpsichord. But 
we fear it can not be said that she obtained any high degree of 
excellence in these or in any other accomplishments. She was 
not inclined to study ; and, with the exception of the abbe, her 
masters and mistresses were too courtly to be peremptory with 
an archduchess. Their favorable reports to the Empress-queen 
were indeed neutralized by the frankness with which their pupil 
herself confessed her idleness and failure to improve. But Maria 
Teresa was too much absorbed in politics to give much heed to 
the confession, or to insist on greater diligence ; though at a later 
day Marie Antoinette herself repented of her neglect, and did her 
best to repair it, taking lessons in more than one accomplishment 
with great perseverance during the first years of her residence at 
Versailles, because, as she expressed herself, the dauphiness was 
bound to take care of the character of the archduchess. 

I There are, however, lessons of greater importance to a child 
than any which are given by even the most accomplished mas- 
ters — those which flow from the example of a virtuous and sensi- 
ble mother ;/and those the young archduchess showed a greater 
aptitude for learning. Maria Teresa had set an example not only 
to her own family, but to all sovereigns, among whom principles 
and practices such as hers had hitherto been little recognized, of 
regarding an attention to the personal welfare of all her subjects, 
even of those of the lowest class, as among the most imperative of 
her duties. She had been accessible to all. She had accustomed 
the peasantry to accost her in her walks; she had visited their 
cottages to inquire into and relieve their wants. And the little 
Antoinette, who, more than any other of her children, seems to 
have taken her for an especial model, had thus, from her very ear- 
liest childhood/learned to feel a friendly interest in the well-doing 
of the people in general ; to think no one too lowly for her notice, 
to sympathize with sorrow, to be indignant at injustice and ingrat- 
itude, to succor misfortune and distress.^ And these were habits 
which, as being implanted in her heart, she was not likely to for- 
get ; but which might be expected rather to gain strength by in- 
dulgence, andl to make her both welcome and useful to any peo- 
ple among whom her lot might be cast. 



24 LIFE OP MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER II. 

Proposal for the Marriage of Marie Antoinette to the Dauphin. — Early Edu- 
cation of the Dauphin. — The Archduchess leaves Vienna in April, 1770. — 
Her Reception at Strasburg. — She meets the King at Compifegne. — The 
Marriage takes place May 16th, 1770. 

Royal marriages had been so constantly regarded as afiairs of 
state, to be arranged for political reasons, that it had become usual 
on the Continent to betroth princes and princesses to each other 
at a very early age ; and it was therefore not considered as denot- 
ing any premature impatience on the part of either the Empress- 
queen or the King of France, Louis XV., when, at the beginning 
of 1769, when Marie Antoinette had but just completed her thir- 
teenth year, the Due de Choiseul, the French Minister for Foreign 
Affairs, who was himself a native of Lorraine, instructed the Mar- 
quis de Durfort, the French embassador at Vienna, to negotiate 
with the celebrated Austrian prime minister, the Prince de Kau- 
nitz, for her marriage to the heir of the French throne, who was 
not quite fifteen months older. Louis XV. had had several daugh- 
ters, but only one son. That son, born in 1729, had been mar- 
ried at the age of fifteen to a Spanish infanta, who, within a year 
of her marriage, died in her confinement, and whom he replaced 
in a few months by a daughter of Augustus III., King of Saxony. 
His second wife bore him four sons and two daughters. The eld- 
est son, the Due de Bourgogne, who was born in 1750, and was 
generally regarded as a child of great promise, died in his eleventh 
year; and when he himself died in 1765, his second son, previous- 
ly known as the Due de Berri, succeeded him in his title of dau- 
phin. This prince, now the suitor of the archduchess, had been 
born on the 23d of August, 1754, and was therefore not quite fif- 
teen. As yet but litt/le was known of him. Very little pains had 
been taken with his education ; his governor, the Due de la Vau- 
guyon, was a man who had been appointed to that most impor- 
tant post by the cabals of the infamous mistress and parasites who 
formed the court of Louis XV., without one qualification for the 
discharge of its duties. A servile, intriguing spirit had alone rec- 



CHARACTER OF THE DAUPHIN. 25 

ommended him to his patrons, while his frivolous indolence was 
in harmony with the inclinations of the king himself, who, worn 
out with a long course of profligacy, had no longer sufliicient en- 
ergy even for vice. Under such a governor, the young prince had 
but little chance of receiving a wholesome education, even if there 
was not a settled design to enfeeble his mind by neglect. 

His father had been a man of a character very different from 
that of the king. By a sort of natural reaction or silent protest 
against the infamies which he saw around him, he had cherished 
a serious and devout disposition, and had observed a conduct of 
the most rigorous virtue. He was even suspected of regarding 
the Jesuits with especial favor, and was believed to have formed 
plans for the reformation of morals, and perhaps of the State. It 
was not strange that, on the first news of the illness which proved 
fatal to him, the people flocked to the churches with prayers for 
his recovery, and that his death was regarded by all the right- 
thinking portion of the community as a national calamity. But 
the courtiers, who had regarded his approaching reign with not 
unnatural alarm, hailed his removal with joy, and were, above all 
things, anxious to prevent his son, who had now become the heir 
to the crown, from following such a path as the father had mark- 
ed out for himself. The negligence of some, thus combining with 
the deliberate malice of others, and aided by peculiarities in the 
constitution and disposition of the young prince himself, which 
became more and more marked as he grew up, exercised a perni- 
cious influence on his boyhood. Not only was his education in 
the ordinary branches of youthful knowledge neglected, but no 
care was even taken to cultivate his taste or to polish his man- 
ners, though a certain delicacy of taste and refinement of man- 
ners were regarded by the courtiers, and by Louis XV. him- 
self, as the pre-eminent distinction of his reign. He was kept 
studiously in the background, discountenanced and depressed, till 
he contracted an awkward timidity and reserve which throughout 
his life he could never shake off ; while a still more unfortunate 
defect, which was another result of this system, was an inability 
to think or decide for himself, or even to act steadily on the ad- 
vice of others after he had professed to adopt it. 

But these deficiencies in his character had as yet hardly had 
time to display themselves ; and, had they been ever so notorious, 
they were not of a nature to divert Maria Teresa from her pur- 
pose. For her political objects, it would not, perhaps, have seemed 



26 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

to her altogether undesirable that the future sovereign of France 
should be likely to rely on the judgment and to submit to the in- 
fluence of another, so long as the person who should have the best 
opportunity of influencing him was her own daughter. A nego- 
tiation for the success of which both parties were equally anxious 
did not require a long time for its conclusion ; and by the begin- 
ning of July, 1769, all the preliminaries were arranged ; the French 
newspapers were authorized to allude to the marriage, and to 
speak of the diligence with which preparations for it were being 
made in both countries ; those in which the French king took the 
greatest interest being the building of some carriages of extraor- 
dinary magnificence, to receive the archduchess as soon as she 
should have arrived on French ground ; while those which were 
being made in Germany indicated a more elementary state of civ- 
ilization, as the first requisite appeared to be to put the roads be- 
tween Vienna and the frontier in a state of repair, to prevent the 
journey from being too fatiguing. 

By the spring of the next year all the necessary preparations 
had been completed ; and on the evening of the 1 6th of April, 
IVYO, a grand court was held in the Palace of Vienna. Through 
a double row of guards of the palace, of body-guards, and of a 
still more select guard, composed wholly of nobles, M. de Durfort 
was conducted into the presence of the Emperor Joseph II., and 
of his widowed mother, the Empress - queen, still, though only 
dowager-empress, the independent sovereign of her own hereditary 
dominions ; and to both he proffered, on the part of the King of 
France, a formal request for the hand of the Archduchess Marie 
Antoinette for the dauphin. When the Emperor and Empress 
had given their gracious consent to the demand, the archduchess 
herself was summoned to the hall and informed of the proposal 
which had been made, and of the approval which her mother and 
her brother had announced ; while, to incline her also to regard it 
with equal favor, the embassador presented her with a letter from 
her intended husband, and with his miniature, which she at once 
hung round her neck. After which, the whole party adjourned 
to the private theatre of the palace to witness the performance of 
a French play, "The Confident Mother" of Marivaux, the title of 
which, so emblematic of the feelings of Maria Teresa, may proba- 
bly have procured it the honor of selection. 

The next day the yoimg princess executed a formal renunciation 
of all right of succession to any part of her mother's dominions 



MARIE ANTOINETTE LEAVES VIENNA. 27 

which might at any time devolve on her ; though the number of 
her brothers and elder sisters rendered any such occurrence in the 
highest degree improbable, and though one conspicuous precedent 
in the history of both countries had, within the memory of per- 
sons still living, proved the worthlessness of such renunciations.'* 
A few days were then devoted to appropriate festivities. That 
which is most especially mentioned by the chroniclers of the 
court being, in accordance with the prevailing taste of the time, 
a grand masked ball,f for which a saloon four hundred feet long 
had been expressly constructed. And on the 26th of April the 
young bride quit her home, the mother from whom she had nev- 
er been separated, and the friends and playmates among whom 
her whole life had been hitherto passed, for a country which was 
wholly strange to her, and in which she had not as yet a single 
acquaintance. Her very husband, to whom she was to be con- 
fided, she had never seen. 

Though both mother and daughter felt the most entire confi- 
dence that the new position, on which she was about to enter, 
would be full of nothing but glory and happiness, it was inevita- 
ble that they should be, as they were, deeply agitated at so com- 
plete a separation. And, if we may believe the testimony of wit- 
nesses who were at Vienna at the time, J the grief of the mother, 
who was never to see her child again, was shared not only by the 
members of the imperial household, whom constant intercourse 
had enabled to know and appreciate her amiable qualities, but by 
the population of the capital and the surrounding districts, all of 
whom had heard of her numerous acts of kindness and benevo- 
lence, which, young as she was, many of them had also experi- 
enced, and who thronged the streets along which she passed on 
her departure, mingling tears of genuine sorrow with their accla- 

* " Histoire de Marie Antoinette," par E. and J. de Goncourt, p. 11. 

f How popular masked balls were in London at this time may be learned 
from Walpole's " Letters," and especially from a passage in which he ^ves an 
account of one given by " sixteen or eighteen young Lords " just two months 
before this ball at Vienna. — Walpole to Mann, dated February 2'7th, 1770. 
Some one a few years later described the French nation as half tiger and 
half monkey; and it is a singular coincidence that Walpole's comment on 
this masquerading fashion should be, "It is very lucky, seeing how much of 
the tiger enters into the human composition, that there should be a good dose 
of the monkey too." 

\ " Memoires concernant Marie Antoinette," par Joseph Weber (her fos- 
ter-brother), i., p. 6. 



28 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

mations, and following her carriage to the outermost gate of the 
city that they might gaze their last on the darling of many hearts. 
Kehl was the last German town through which she was to pass. 
Strasburg was the first French city which was to receive her, and, 
as the islands which dot the Rhine at that portion of the noble 
boundary river were regarded as a kind of neutral ground, the 
French monarch had selected the principal one to be occupied by 
a pavilion built for the purpose and decorated with great mag- 
nificence, that it might serve for another stage of the wedding 
ceremony. In this pavilion she was to cease to be German, and 
was to become French ; she was to bid farewell to her Austrian 
attendants, and to receive into her service the French officers of 
her household, male and female, who were to replace them. She 
was even to divest herself of every article of her German attire, 
and to apparel herself anew in garments of French manufacture 
sent from Paris. The pavilion was divided into two compart- 
ments. In the chief apartment of the German division, the Aus- 
trian officials who had escorted her so far formally resigned their 
charge, and surrendered her to the Comte de Noailles, who had 
been appointed embassador extraordinary to receive her; and, 
when all the deeds necessary to release from their responsibility 
the German nobles whose duties were now terminated had been 
duly signed, the doors were thrown open, and Marie Antoinette 
passed into the French division, as a French princess, to receive 
the homage of a splendid train of French courtiers, who were 
waiting in loyal eagerness to offer their first salutations to their 
new mistress. Yet, as if at every period of her life she was to 
be beset with omens, the celebrated German writer, Goethe, who 
was at that time pursuing his studies at Strasburg, perceived one 
which he regarded as of most inauspicious significance in the tap- 
estry which decorated the walls of the chief saloon. It repre- 
sented the history of Jason and Medea. On one side was portray- 
ed the king's bride in the agonies of death ; on the other, the 
royal father was bewailing his murdered children. Above them 
both, Medea was fleeing away in a car drawn by fire-breathing 
dragons, and driven by the Furies ; and the youthful poet could 
not avoid reflecting that a record of the most miserable union 
that even the ancient mythology had recorded was a singularly 
inappropriate and ill-omened ornament for nuptial festivities.* 

* "Goethe's Biography," p. 287. 



HER ENTRY INTO STRASBURO. 29 

A bridge readied, from the island to the left bank of the riv- 
er ; and, on quitting the pavilion, the archduchess found the car- 
riages, which had been built for her in Paris, ready to receive her, 
that she might make her state entry into Strasburg. They were 
marvels of the coach-maker's art. The prime minister himself 
had furnished the designs, and they had attracted the curiosity of 
the fashionable world in Paris throughout the winter. One was 
covered with crimson velvet, having pictures, emblematical of the 
four seasons, embroidered in gold on the principal panels ; on the 
other the velvet was blue, and the elements took the place of the 
seasons ; while the roof of each was surmounted by nosegays of 
flowers, carved in gold, enameled in appropriate colors, and wrought 
with such exquisite delicacy that every movement of the carriage, 
or even the lightest breeze, caused them to wave as if they were 
the natural produce of the garden.* 

In this superb conveyance Marie Antoinette passed on under a 
succession of triumphal arches to the gates of Strasburg, which, 
on this auspicious occasion, seemed as if it desired to put itself 
forward as the representative of the joy of the whole nation by 
the splendid cordiality of its welcome. Whole regiments of cav- 
alry, drawn up in line of battle, received her with a grand salute 
as she advanced. Battery after battery pealed forth along the 
whole extent of the vast ramparts ; the bells of every church rang 
out a festive peal ; fountains ran with wine in the Grand Square. 
She proceeded to the episcopal palace, where the archbishop, the 
Cardinal de Rohan, with his coadjutor, the Prince Louis de Rohan 
(a man afterward rendered unhappily notorious by his complicity 
in a vile conspiracy against her) received her at the head of the 
most august chapter that the whole land could produce, the counts 
of the cathedral, as they were styled ; the Prince of Lorraine being 
the grand dean, the Archbishop of Bordeaux the grand provost, 
and not one post in the chapter being filled by any one below the 
rank of count. She held a court for the reception of all the fe- 
male nobility of the province. She dined publicly in state ; a pro- 
cession of the municipal magistrates presented her a sample of 
the wines of the district ; and, as she tasted the luscious offering, 
the coopers celebrated what they called a feast of Bacchus, waving 
their hoops as they danced round the room in grotesque figures. 

It was a busy day for her, that first day of her arrival on French 

* "Memoires de Bachaumont," January 30th, 17V0. 



30 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

soil. From the dinner-table she went to the theatre ; on quitting 
the theatre, she was driven through the streets to see the illumi- 
nations, which made every part of the city as bright as at midday, 
the great square in front of the episcopal palace being converted 
into a complete garden of fire-works; and at midnight she at- 
tended a ball which the governor of the province, the Marechal 
de Contades, gave in her honor to all the principal inhabitants of 
the city and district. Quitting Strasburg the next day, after a 
grand reception of the clergy, the nobles, and the magistrates of 
the province, she proceeded by easy stages through Nancy, Cha- 
lons, Rheims, and Soissons, the whole population of every town 
through which she passed collecting on the road to gaze on her 
beauty, the renown of which had reached the least curious ears ; 
and to receive marks of her affability, reports of which were at 
least as widely spread, in the cheerful eagerness with which she 
threw down the windows of her carriage, and the frank, smiling 
recognition and genuine pleasure with which she replied to their 
enthusiastic acclamations. It was long remembered that, when 
the students of the college at Soissons presented her with a Latin 
address, she replied to them in a sentence or two in the same lan- 
guage. 

Soissons was her last resting-place before she was introduced to 
her new family. On the afternoon of Monday, the 14th of May, 
she quit it for Compiegne, which the king and all the court 
had reached in the course of the morning. As she approached 
the town she was met by the minister, the Due de Choiseul, and 
he was the precursor of Louis himself, who, accompanied by the 
dauphin and his daughters, and escorted by his gorgeous company 
of the guards of the household,* had driven out to receive her. 
She and all her train dismounted from their carriages. Her mas- 
ter of the horse and her "knight of honor "f took her by the 
hand and conducted her to the royal coach. She sunk on her 
knee in the performance of her respectful homage ; but Louis 
promptly raised her up, and, having embraced her with a tender- 
ness which gracefully combined royal dignity with paternal affec- 
tion, and having addressed her in a brief speech,J which was 

* La maison du roi. 

\ Chevalier d'honneur. We have no corresponding office at the English 
court. 

\ The king said, " Vous etiez deja de la famille, car votre mfere a I'ame de 
Louis le Grand." — Sainte-Beuve, Nouveauz Lundis, viii., p. 322. 



HHE MEETS THE FRENCH PRINCESS. 31 

specially acceptable to her, as containing a well-timed compliment 
to liei" mother, introduced her to the dauphin ; and, when they 
reached the palace, he also presented to her his more distant rela- 
tives, the princes and princesses of the blood,* the Due d'Orleans 
and his son, the Due de Chartres, destined hereafter to prove one 
of the foulest and most mischievous of her enemies ; the Due de 
Bourbon, the Princes of Conde and Conti, and one lady whose 
connection with royalty was Italian rather than French, but to 
whom the acquaintance, commenced on this day, proved the cause 
of a miserable and horrible death, the beautiful Princesse de Lam- 
balle. 

Compiegne, however, was not to be honored by the marriage 
ceremony. The next morning the whole party started for Ver- 
sailles, turning out of the road, at the express request of the arch- 
duchess herself, to pay a brief visit to the king's youngest daugh- 
ter, the Princess Louise, who had taken on herself the Carmelite 
vows, and resided in the Convent of St. Denis. The request had 
been suggested by Choiseul, who was well aware that the princess 
shared the dislike entertained by her more worldly sisters to the 
house of Austria ; but it was accepted as a personal compliment 
by the king himself, who was already fascinated by her charms, 
which, as he affirmed, surpassed those of her portrait, and was 
predisposed to view all her words and actions in the most favora- 
ble light. Avoiding Paris, which Louis, ever since the riots of 
1750, had constantly refused to enter, they reached the hunting- 
lodge of La Muette, in the Bois de Boulogne, for supper. Here 
she made the acquaintance of the brothers and sisters of her fut- 
ure husband, the Counts of Provence and Artois, both destined, 
in their turn, to. succeed him on the throne ; of the Princess Clo- 
tilde, who may be regarded as the most fortunate of her race, in 
being saved by a foreign marriage and an early death from wit- 
nessing the worst calamities of her family and her native land ; of 
the Princess Elizabeth, who was fated to share them in all their 
bitterness and horror ; and (a strangely incongruous sequel to the 
morning visit to the Carmelite convent), the Countess du Barri 
also came into her presence, and was admitted to sup at the royal 
table ; as if, even at the very moment when he might have been 

* In the language of the French heralds, the title princes of the royal fam- 
ily was confined to the children or grandchildren of the reigning sovereign. 
His nephews and cousins were only princes of the blood. 



32 LIFE OF MAIilE ANTOINETTE. 

expected to conduct himself witli some degree of respectful de- 
cency to tlie pure-minded young girl whom he was receiving into 
his family, Louis XV. was bent on exhibiting to the whole world 
his incurable shamelessness in its most offensive form. 

At midnight he, with the dauphin, proceeded to Versailles, 
whither, the next morning, the archduchess followed them. And 
at one o'clock on the 16th, in the chapel of the palace, the Pri- 
mate of France, the Archbishop of Rheims, performed the mar- 
riage ceremony. A canopy of cloth of silver was held over the 
heads of the youthful pair by the bishops of Senlis and Chartres. 
The dauphin, after he had placed the wedding-ring on his bride's 
finger, added, as a token that he endowed her with his worldly 
wealth, a gift of thirteen pieces of gold,which, as well as the ring, 
had received the episcopal benediction, and Marie Antoinette was 
dauphiness of France. 



THE MARRIAGE UNPOPULAR IN FRANCE AND AUSTRIA. 33 



CHAPTER III. 

Feelings in Germany and France on the Subject of the Marriage. — Letter of 
Maria Teresa to the Dauphin. — Characters of the Diif erent Members of the 
Royal Family. — Difficulties which beset Marie Antoinette. — Maria Teresa's 
Letter of Advice. — The Comte de Mercy is sent as Embassador to France 
to act as the Adviser of the Dauphiness. — The Princesse de Lorraine at 
the State Ball. — A Great Disaster takes place at the Fire-works in Paris. — 
The Peasant at Fontainebleau. — Marie Antoinette pleases the King. — De- 
scription of her Personal Appearance. — Mercy's Report of the Impression 
she made on her First Arrival. 

The marriage whicli was thus accomplished was regarded with 
unmodified pleasure by the family of the bride, and with almost 
equal satisfaction by the French king. In spite of the public re- 
joicings in both countries with which it was accompanied, it can 
not be said to have been equally acceptable to the majority of the 
people of either nation. There was still a strong anti-French par- 
ty at Vienna,* and (a circumstance of far greater influence on the 
fortunes of the young couple) there was a strong anti-Austrian 
party in France, which was not without its supporters even in the 
king's palace. That the marriage should have been so earnestly 
desired at the imperial court is a strange instance of the extent to 
which political motives overpowered every other consideration in 
the mind of the great Empress-queen, for she was not ignorant of 
the real character of the French court, of the degree in which it 
was divided by factions, of the base and unworthy intrigues which 
were its sole business, and of the sagacity and address which were 
requisite for any one who would steer his way with safety and 
honor through its complicated mazes. 

Judgment and prudence were not the qualities most naturally 
to be expected in a young princess not yet fifteen years old. The 
best prospect which Marie Antoinette had of surmounting the nu- 
merous and varied difficulties which beset her lay in the affection 
which she speedily conceived for her husband, and in the sincerity, 

* The word is Maria Teresa's own ; " anti-fran^ais " occurring in more than 
one of her letters. 

3 



34 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

we can hardly say warmth, with which he returned her love. Ma- 
ria Teresa had bespoken his tenderness for her in a letter which 
she wrote to him on the day on which her daughter left Vienna, 
and which has often been quoted as a composition worthy of her 
alike as a mother and as a Christian sovereign ; and as admirably 
calculated to impress the heart of her new son-in-law by claiming 
his attachment for his bride, on the ground of the pains which she 
had taken to make her worthy of her fortune. 

" Your bride, my dear dauphin, has just left me. I do hope 
that she will cause your happiness. I have brought her up Avith 
the design that she should do so, because I have for some time 
foreseen that she would share your destiny. 

"I have inspired her with an eager desire to do her duty to 
you, with a tender attachment to your person, with a resolution to 
be attentive to think and do every thing which may please you. 
I have also been most careful to enjoin her a tender devotion to- 
ward the Master of all Sovereigns, being thoroughly persuaded 
that we are but badly providing for the welfare of the nations 
which are intrusted to us when we fail in our duty to Him who 
breaks sceptres and overthrows thrones according to his pleasure. 

" I say, then, to you, ray dear dauphin, as I say to my daugh- 
ter: 'Cultivate your duties toward God. Seek to cause the hap- 
piness of the people over whom you will reign (it will be too soon, 
come when it may). Love the king, your grandfather; be hu- 
mane like him ; be always accessible to the unfortunate. If you 
behave in this manner, it is impossible that happiness can fail to 
be your lot.' My daughter will love you, I am certain, because I 
know her. But the more that I answer to you for her affection, 
and for her anxiety to please you, the more earnestly do I entreat 
you to vow to her the most sincere attachment. 

"Farewell, my dear dauphin. May you be happy. I am 
bathed in tears."* 

The dauphin did not falsify the hopes thus expressed by the 
Empress-queen. But his was not the character to afford his wife 
either the advice or support which she needed, while, strange to 
say, he was the only member of the royal family to whom she 
could look for either. The king was not only utterly worthless 
and shameless, but weak and irresolute in the most ordinary mat- 

* Quoted by Mme. du Deffand in a letter to Walpole, dated May 19th, 1770 
(" Correspondance complete de Mme. du Deffand," ii., p. 59). 



DIFFICULTIES OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 35 

ters. Even when in the flower and vigor of his age, he had never 
been able to summon courage to give verbal orders or reproofs to 
his own children,* but had intimated his pleasure or displeasure 
by letters. He had been gradually falling lower and lower, both 
in his own vices and in the estimation of the world ; and was now, 
still more than when Lord Chesterfield first drew his picture,f both 
hated and despised, . The dauphin's brothers, for such mere boys, 
were singularly selfish and unamiable ; and the only female rela- 
tions of her husband, his aunts, to whom, as such, it would have 
been natural that a young foreigner should look for friendship and 
advice, were not only narrow-minded, intriguing, and malicious, 
but were predisposed to regard her with jealousy as likely to in- 
terfere with the influence which they had hoped to exert over 
their nephew when he should become their sovereign. 

Marie Antoinette had, therefore, difficulties and enemies to con- 
tend with from the very first commencement of her residence in 
France. And many even of her own virtues were unfavorable to 
her chances of happiness, calculated as they were to lay her at the 
mercy of her ill-wishers, and to deprive her of some of the de- 
fenses which might have been found in a different temperament. 
Full of health and spirits, she was naturally eager in the pursuit 
of enjoyment, and anxious to please every one, from feeling noth- 
ing but kindness toward every one ; she was frank, open, and sin- 
cere ; and, being perfectly guileless herself, she was, as through her 
whole life she continued to be, entirely unsuspicious of unfriendli- 
ness, much more of treachery in others. Her affability and con- 
descension combined with this trustful disposition to make her 
too often the tool of designing and grasping courtiers, who sought 
to gain their own ends at her expense, and who presumed on her 
good-nature and inexperience to make requests which, as they well 
knew, should never have been made, but which they also reckoned 
that she would be unwilling to refuse. 

But lest this general amiability and desire to give pleasure to 

* Mercy to Marie-Therfese, August 4th, 1770; " Correspondance secrete en- 
tre Marie-Ther^se et le Comte de Mercy Argenteau, avec des Lettres de Marie- 
Therfese et Marie-Antoinette," par M. le Chevalier Alfred d'Arneth, i., p. 29. 
For the sake of brevity, this Collection will be hereafter referred to as " Ar- 
neth." 

f " The King of France is both hated and despised, which seldom happens 
to the same man." — Lord Chesterfield, Letter to Mr. Dayrolles, dated May 
19th, 1752. 



36 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

those around her might seem to impart a prevailing tinge of 
weakness to her character, it is fair to add that she united to 
these softer feelings, robuster virtues calculated to deserve and to 
win universal admiration ; though some of them, never having yet 
been called forth by circumstances, vpere for a long time unsus- 
pected by the world at large. She had pride — pride of birth, 
pride of rank — though never did that feeling show itself more no- 
bly or more beneficially. It never led her to think herself above 
the very meanest of her subjects. It never made her indifferent 
to the interests, to the joys or sorrows, of a single individual. The 
idea with which it inspired her was, that a princess of her race 
was never to commit an unworthy act, was never to fail in purity 
of virtue, in truth, in courage ; that she was to be careful to set 
an example of these virtues to those who would naturally look up 
to her ; and that she herself vras to keep constantly in her mind 
the example of her illustrious mother, and never, by act, or word, 
or thought, to discredit her mother's name. And as she thus re- 
garded courage as her birthright, so she possessed it in abundance 
and in yariety. She had courage to plan, and courage to act; 
courage to resolve, and courage to adhere to the resolution once 
deliberately formed ; and, above all, courage to endure and to suf- 
fer, and, in the very extremity of misery, to animate and support 
others less royally endowed. 

Such, then, as she was, with both her manifest and her latent ex- 
cellencies, as well as with those more mixed qualities which had 
some defects mingled with their sweetness, Marie Antoinette, at 
the age of fourteen years and a half, was thrown into a world 
wholly new to her, to guide herself so far by her own discretion 
that there was no one who had both judgment and authority to 
control her in her line of conduct or in any single action. She 
had, indeed, an adviser whom her mother had provided for her, 
though without allowing her to suspect the nature or full extent 
of the duties which she had imposed upon him. Maria Teresa had 
been in some respects a strict mother, one whom her children in 
general feared almost as much as they loved her ; and the rigor- 
ous superintendence on some points of conduct which she had 
exercised over Marie Antoinette while at home, she was not in- 
clined wholly to resign, even after she had made her apparently 
independent. At the moment of her departure from Vienna, she 
gave her a letter of advice which she entreated her to read over 
every month, and in which the most affectionate and judicious 



THE COUNT BE MERCY-AROENTEAU. 37 

counsel is more than once couched in a tone of very authoritative 
command ; the whole letter showing not only the most experi- 
enced wisdom and the most affectionate interest in her daughter's 
happiness, but likewise a thorough insight into her character, so 
precisely are some of the errors against which the letter most em- 
phatically warns her those into which she most frequently fell. 
And she appointed a statesman in whom she deservedly placed 
great confidence, the Count de Mercy-Argenteau, her embassador 
to the court at Versailles, with the express design that he should 
always be at hand to afford the dauphiness his advice in all the 
difficulties which she could not avoid foreseeing for her ; and who 
should also keep the Empress-queen herself fully informed of ev- 
ery particular of her conduct, and of every transaction by which 
she was in any way affected. This part of his commission was 
wholly unsuspected by the young princess ; but the count dis- 
charged such portions of the delicate duty thus imposed upon 
him with rare discretion, contriving in its performance to combine 
the strictest fidelity to his imperial mistress with the most entire 
devotion to the interests of his pupil, and to preserve the unquali- 
fied regard and esteem of both mother and daughter to the end 
of their lives. Toward the latter, as dauphiness, and even as 
queen, he stood for some years in a position very similar to that 
which Baron Stockmar fills in the history of the late Prince Con- 
sort of England, being, however, more frequent in his admoni- 
tions, and occasionally more severe in his reproofs, as the youth 
and inexperience of Marie Antoinette not unnaturally led her into 
greater mistakes than the scrupulous conscientiousness and almost 
premature prudence of the prince consort ever suffered him to 
commit ; and his diligent reports to the Empress-queen, amount- 
ing at times to a diary of the proceedings of the French court, 
have a lasting and inestimable value, since they furnish us with 
so trustworthy a record of the whole life of Marie Antoinette for 
the first ten years of her residence in France,* of her actions, her 
language, and her very thoughts (for she ever scorned to give a 
reason or to make an excuse which was not absolutely and strict- 
ly true), that there is perhaps no person of historical importance 
whose conduct in every transaction of gravity or interest is more 
minutely known, or whose character there are fuller materials for 
appreciating. 

* Maria Teresa died in December, 1780. 



38 " LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

The very day of her marriage did not pass without her re- 
ceiving a strange specimen of the factious spirit w^hich prevailed 
at the court, and of the hoUowness of the Avelcome with which 
the chief nobles had greeted her arrival. A state ball was given 
at the palace to celebrate the wedding, and as the Princess of Lor- 
raine, a cousin of the Emperor Francis, was the only blood-rela- 
tion of Marie Antoinette who was at Versailles at the time, the 
king assigned her a place in the first quadrille, giving her prec- 
edence for that occasion, next to the princes of the blood. It 
did not seem a great stretch of courtesy to show to a foreigner, 
even had she not been related to the princess in whose honor the 
ball was given ; but the dukes and peers fired up at the arrange- 
ment, as if an insult had been offered them. They held a meet- 
ing at which they resoRed that no member of their families should 
attend, and carried out their resolution so obstinately that at five 
o'clock, when the dancing was to commence, except the royal 
princesses there were only three ladies in the room. The king, 
who, following the example of Louis XIV., acted on these occa- 
sions as his own master of ceremonies, was forced to send special 
and personal orders to some of those who had absented them- 
selves to attend without delay. And so by seven o'clock twelve 
or fourteen couples were collected* (the number of persons ad- 
mitted to such entertainments was always extremely small), and 
the rude disloyalty of the protest was to outward appearance ef- 
faced by the submission of the recusants. 

But all the troubles which arose out of the wedding festivities 
were not so easily terminated. Little as was the good-will which 
subsisted between Louis XV. and the Parisians, the civic authori- 
ties thought their own credit at stake in doing appropriate honor 
to an occasion so important as the marriage of the heir of the 
monarchy, and on the 30th of May they closed a succession of 
balls and banquets by a display of fire-works, in which the inge- 
nuity of the most celebrated artists had been exhausted to out- 
shine all previous displays of the sort. Three sides of the Place 
Louis XV. were filled up with pyramids and colonnades. Here 
dolphins darted out many -colored flames from their ever -open 
mouths. There, rivers of fire poured forth cascades spangled with 
all the variegated brilliancy with which the chemist's art can em- 
bellish the work of the pyrotechnist. The centre was occupied 

* Mme. du Deffand, letter of May 19th, l^W. 



ACCIDENT AT THE ILLUMINATIONS. 39 

with a gorgeous Temple of Hymen, whicli seemed to lean for 
support on the well-known statue of the king, in front of which 
it was constructed ; and which was, as it were, to be carried up to 
the skies by above three thousand rockets and fire-balls into which 
it was intended to dissolve. The whole square was packed with 
spectators, the pedestrians in front, the carriages in the rear, when 
one of the explosions set fire to a portion of the platforms on 
which the different figures had been constructed. At first the 
increase of the blaze was regarded only as an ingenious surprise 
on the part of the artist. But soon it became clear that the con- 
flagration was undesigned and real ; panic succeeded to delight, 
and the terror-stricken crowd, seeing themselves surrounded with 
flames, began to make frantic efforts to escape from the danger ; 
but there was only one side of the square uninclosed, and that 
was blocked up by carriages. The uproar and the glare made 
the horses unmanageable, and in a few moments the whole mass, 
human beings and animals, was mingled in helpless confusion, 
making flight impossible by their very eagerness to fly, and tram- 
pling one another underfoot in bewildered misery. Of those 
who did succeed in extricating themselves from the square, half 
made their way to the road which runs along the bank of the riv- 
er, and found that they had only exchanged one danger for an- 
other, which, though of an opposite character, was equally de- 
structive. Still overwhelmed with terror, though the first peril 
was over, the fugitives pushed one another into the stream, in 
which great numbers were drowned. The number of the killed 
could never be accurately ascertained ; but no calculation esti- 
mated the number of those who perished at less than six hundred, 
while those who were grievously injured were at least as many 
more. 

The dauphin and dauphiness were deeply shocked by a disaster 
so painfully at variance with their own happiness, which, in one 
sense, had caused it. Their first thought was, as far as they might 
be able, to mitigate it. Most of the victims were of the poorer 
class, the grief of whose surviving relatives was, in many instances, 
aggravated by the loss of the means of livelihood which the la- 
bors of those who had been cut off had hitherto supplied ; and, 
to give temporary succor to this distress, the dauphin and dauphin- 
ess at once drew out from the royal treasury the sums allowed to 
them for their private expenses for the month, and sent the mon- 
ey to the municipal authorities to be applied to the relief of the 



40 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

sufferers. But Marie Antoinette did more. She felt tliat to give 
money only was but cold benevolence ; and she made personal 
visits to many of those families which had been most grievously 
afflicted, showing the sincerity of her sympathy by the touching 
kindness of her language, and by the tears which she mingled 
with those of the widow and the orphan.* Such unmerited kind- 
ness made a deep impression on the citizens. Since the time of 
Henry IV. no prince had ever shown the slightest interest in the 
happiness or misery of the lower classes ; and the feeling of af- 
fectionate gratitude which this unprecedented recognition of 
their claims to be sympathized with as fellow-creatures awakened 
was fixed still more deeply in their hearts a short time afterward, 
when, at one of the hunting-parties which took place at Fontaine- 
bleau, the stag charged a crowd of the spectators and severely 
wounded a peasant with his horns. Marie Antoinette sprung to 
the ground at the sight, helped to bind up the wound, and had 
the man driven in her own carriage to his cabin, whither she fol- 
lowed him herself to see that every proper attention was paid to 
him.f And the affection which she thus inspired among the poor 
was fully shared by the chief personage in the kingdom, the sov- 
ereign himself. A life of profligacy had not rendered Louis 
wholly insensible to the superior attractions of innocence and 
virtue. Perhaps a secret sense of shame at the slavery in which 
his vices held him, and which, as he well knew, excited the con- 
tempt of even his most dissolute courtiers, though he had not suf- 
ficient energy to shake it off, may have for a moment quickened 
his better feelings; and the fresh beauty of the young princess, 
who, from the first moment . of her arrival at the court, treated 
him with the most affectionate and caressing respect, awakened 
in him a genuine admiration and good-will. He praised her beau- 
ty and her grace to all his nobles with a warmth that excited the 
jealousy of his infamous mistress, the Countess du Barri. He 
made allowance for some childishness of manner as natural at her 
age,J and showed an anxiety for every thing which could amuse 
or gratify her, which afforded a marked contrast to his ordinary 
apathy. And, though in so young a girl it was rather the prom- 
ise of future beauty than its developed perfection that her feat- 



* Chambier, i., p. 60. •)• Mme. de Campan, i., p. 3. 

\ He told Mercy she was " ' vive et un peu enfant, mais," ajoutat-il, " cela 
est rien de son age.' " — Arneth, i.,p. 11. 



POPULARITY OF THE DAUPHINESS. 41 

ures as yet presented, they already exhibited sufficient charms to 
exempt those who extolled them from the suspicion of flattery. 
A clear and open forehead, a delicately cut nose, a complexion of 
dazzling brilliancy, with bright blue eyes, whose ever-varying lus- 
tre seemed equally calculated to show every feeling which could 
move her heart; which could at times seem almost fierce with 
anger, indignation, or contempt, but whose prevailing expression 
was that of kindly benevolence or light-hearted mirth, were united 
with a figure of exquisite proportions, sufficiently tall for dignity, 
though as yet, of course, slight and unformed, and every move- 
ment of which was directed by a grace that could neither be 
taught nor imitated. If any defect could be discovered in her 
face, it consisted in a somewhat undue thickness of the lips, es- 
pecially of the lower lip, which had for some generations been 
the prevailing characteristic of her family. 

Accordingly, a month after her marriage, Mercy could report 
to Maria Teresa that she had had complete success, and was a 
universal favorite ; that, besides the king, who openly expressed 
his satisfaction, she had won the heart of the dauphin, who had 
been very unqualified in the language in which he had praised 
both her beauty and her agreeable qualities to his aunts ; and 
that even those princesses were " enchanted " with her. The 
whole court, and the people in general, extolled her affability, and 
the graciousness with which she said kind things to all who ap- 
proached her. Though the well-informed embassador had already 
discovered signs of the cabals which the mistress and her parti- 
sans were forming against her, and had been rendered a little un- 
easy by the handle which she had more than once afforded to her 
secret enemies, when, " in gayety of heart and without the slight- 
est ill-will," she had allowed herself to jest on some persons and 
circumstances which struck her as ridiculous, her jests being sea- 
soned with a wit and piquancy which rendered them keener to 
those who were their objects, and so more mischievous to herself. 
He especially praised the unaffected dignity with which she had 
I'eceived the mistress who had attended in her apartments to pay 
her court, though in no respect deceived as to the lady's disposi- 
tion, her penetration into the characters of all with whom she had 
been brought into contact, denoting, as it struck him, " a sagaci- 
ty " which, at her age, was " truly astonishing."* 

* Arneth, i., p. 9-16. 



42 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Marie Antoinette gives her Mother her First Impressions of the Court and 
of her own Position and Prospects. — Court Life at Versailles. — Marie An- 
toinette shows her Dislike of Etiquette. — Character of the Due d'Aiguillon. 
— Cabals against the Dauphiness. — Jealousy of Mme. du Barri. — The 
Aunts, too, are Jealous of Her. — She becomes more and more Popular. — 
Parties for Donkey-riding. — Scantiness of the Dauphiness's Income. — Her 
Influence over the King. — The Due de Choiseul is dismissed. — She begins 
to have Great Influence over the Dauphin. 

Marie Antoinette herself was inclined to be delighted with 
all that befell her, and to make light of what she could hardly 
regard as pleasant or becoming ; and two of her first letters to her 
mother, written in the early part of July,* give us an insight into 
the feelings with which she regarded her new family and her own 
position, as well as a picture of her daily occupations and of the 
singular customs of the French court, strangely inconsistent in 
what it permitted and in what it disallowed, and, in the publicity 
in which its princes lived, curiously incompatible with ordinary 
ideas of comfort and even delicacy. 

" The king," she says, " is full of kindnesses toward me, and I 
love him tenderly. But it is pitiable to see his weakness for 
Madame du Barri, who is the silliest and most impertinent creat- 
ure that it is possible to conceive. She has played with us every 
evening at Marly,f and she has twice been seated next to me; 
but she has not spoken to me, and I have not attempted to en- 
gage in conversation with her ; but, when it was necessary, I have 
said a word or two to her. 

" As for my dear husband, he is greatly changed, and in a most 

* Dates 9th and 1 2th., Arneth, i., pp. 16, 18. 

f Marly was a palace belonging to the king, but little inferior in splendor 
to Versailles itself, and a favorite residence of Louis XV., because a less 
strict etiquette had been established there. Choisy and Bellevue, which will 
often be mentioned in the course of this narrative, were two others of the 
royal palaces on a somewhat smaller scale. They have both been destroyed. 
Marly, Choisy, and Bellevue were all between Versailles and Paris. 



E£:R letters to MARIA TERESA. 43 

advantageous manner. He shows a great deal of affection for me, 
and is even beginning to treat me with great confidence. He cer- 
tainly does not like M. de la Vauguyon ; but he is afraid of him. 
A curious thing happened about the duke the other day. I was 
alone with my husband, when M. de la Vauguyon stole hurriedly 
up to the doors to listen. A servant, who was either a fool or a 
very honest man, opened the door, and there stood his grace the 
duke planted like a sentinel, without being able to retreat. I 
pointed out to my husband the inconvenience that there was in 
having people listening at the doors, and he took my remark very 
well." 

She did not tell the empress the whole of this occurrence ; she 
had been too indignant at the duke's meanness to suppress her 
feelings, and she reproved the duke himself with a severity which 
can hardly be said to have been misplaced. 

"Duke de la Vauguyon," she said, "my lord the dauphin is 
now of an age to dispense with a governor; and I have no need 
of a spy. I beg you not to appear again in my presence."* 

Between the writing of her first and second letters she had 
heard from Maria Teresa ; and she " can not describe how the 
affection her mother expresses for her has gone to her heart. 
Every letter which she has received has filled her eyes with tears 
of regret at being separated from so tender and loving a mother, 
and, happy as she is in France, she would give the world to see 
her family again, if it were but for a moment. As her mother 
wishes to know how the days are passed ; she gets up between 
nine and ten, and, having dressed herself and said her morning 
prayers, she breakfasts, and then she goes to the apartments of 
her aunts, where she usually finds the king. That lasts till half- 
past ten ; then at eleven she has her hair dressed. 

"At twelve," she proceeds to say, " what is called the Chamber 
is held, and there every one who does not belong to the common 
people may enter. I put on my rouge and wash my hands be- 
fore all the world ; the men go out, and the women remain ; and 
then I dress myself in their presence. Then comes mass. If 
the king is at Versailles, I go to mass with him, my husband, 
and my aunts ; if he is not there, I go alone with the dauphin, 
but always at the same hour. After mass we two dine by our- 
selves in the presence of all the world; but dinner is over by 

* Mem. de Goncourt, quoting a MS. diary of Hardy, p. 35. 



44 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

half-past one, as we both eat very fast. From the dinner-table 
I go to the dauphin's apartments, and if he has business, I re- 
turn to my own rooms, where I read, write, or work; for I am 
making a waistcoat for the king, which gets on but slowly, though, 
I trust, with God's grace, it will be finished before many years are 
over. At three o'clock I go again to visit my aunts, and the king 
comes to them at the same hour. At four the abbe* comes to 
me, and at five I have every day either my harpsichord-master or 
my singing-master till six. At half-past six I go almost every 
day to my aunts, except when I go out walking. And you must 
understand that when I go to visit my aunts, my husband almost 
always goes with me. At seven we play cards till nine o'clock ; 
but when the weather is fine I go out walking, and then there is 
no play in my apartments, but it is held at my aunts'. At nine 
we sup ; and when the king is not there, my aunts come to sup 
with us ; but when the king is there, we go after supper to their 
rooms, waiting there for the king, who usually comes about a quar- 
ter to eleven ; and I lie down on a grand sofa and go to sleep till he 
comes. But when he is not there, we go to bed at eleven o'clock." 
The play-table which is alluded to in these letters was one of 
the most curious and mischievous institutions of the court. Gam- 
bling had been one of its established vices ever since the time of 
Henry IV., whose enormous losses at play had formed the sub- 
ject of Sully's most incessant remonstrances. And from the 
beginning of the reign of Louis XIV., a gaming-table had formed 
a regular part of the evening's amusement. It was the one thing 
which was allowed to break down the barrier of etiquette. On 
all other occasions, the rules which regulated who might and who 
might not be admitted to the royal presence were as precise and 
strict as in many cases they were unreasonable and unintelligible. 
But at the gaming-table every one who could make the slightest 
pretensions to gentle birth was allowed to present himself and 
stake his money ;f and the leveling influence of play was almost 
as fully exemplified in the king's palace as in the ordinary gam- 
ing-houses, since, though the presence of royalty so far acted as a 
restraint on the gamblers as to prevent any open explosion, accu- 
sations of foul play and dishonest tricks were as rife as in the 
most vulgar company. 

* De Vermond, who had accompanied her from Vienna as her reader, 
f See St. Simon's account of Dangeau, i., p. 392. 



STRICTNESS OF THE COURT ETIQUETTE. 45 

Marie Antoinette was winning many hearts by her loveliness 
and affability ; but she could not scatter her kind speeches and 
friendly smiles among all with whom she came into contact with- 
out running counter to the prejudices of some of the old courtiers 
who had been formed on a different system ; to whom the main- 
tenance of a rigid etiquette was as the very breath of their nos- 
trils, and in whose eyes its very first rule and principle was that 
princes should keep all the world at a distance. Foremost among 
these sticklers for old ideas was the Countess de Noailles, her 
principal " lady of honor," whose uneasiness on the subject speed- 
ily became so notorious as to give rise to numerous court squibs 
and satirical odes, the authors of which seemed glad to compli- 
ment the dauphin and to vex her ladyship at the same time, but 
who could not be deterred by these effusions from lecturing Marie 
Antoinette on her disregard of her rank, and on the danger of 
making herself too familiar, till she provoked the young princess 
into giving her the nickname of Madame Etiquette; and, no 
doubt, in her childish playfulness, to utter many a speech and do 
many an act whose principal object was to excite the astonish- 
ment or provoke the frowns of the too prim lady of honor. 

There can be no doubt that, though she often pushed her strict- 
ness too far, Madame de Noailles to some extent had reason on 
her side ; and that a certain degree of ceremony and stately re- 
serve is indispensable in court life. It is a penalty which those 
born in the purple must pay for their dignity, that they can have 
no friend on a perfect equality with themselves ; and those who 
in different ages and countries have tried to emancipate them- 
selves from this law of their rank have not generally won even 
the respect of those to whom they have condescended, and still 
less the approbation of the outer world, whose members have per- 
haps a secret dislike to see those whom they regard as their own 
equals lifted above them by the familiarity of princes. 

This, however, was a matter of comparatively slight importance. 
An excess of condescension is at the worst a venial and an amia- 
ble error ; but even at this early period plots were being contrived 
against the young princess, which, if successful, would have been 
wholly destructive of her happiness, and which, though she was 
fully aware of them, she had not means by herself to disconcert 
or defeat. They were the more formidable because they were 
partly political, embracing a scheme for the removal of a minis- 
ter, and consequently conciliated more supporters and insured 



46 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

greater perseverance than if they had merely aimed at securing a 
preponderance of court favor for the plotters. Like all the oth- 
er mistresses who had successively reigned in the French courts, 
Madame du Barri had a party of adherents who hoped to rise by 
her patronage. The Due de Choiseul himself had owed his pro- 
motion to her predecessor, Madame de Pompadour, and those who 
hoped to supplant him saw in a similar influence the best pros- 
pect of attaining their end. One of the least respectable of the 
French nobles was the Due d'Aiguillon. As Governor of Brit- 
tany, he had behaved with notorious cowardice in the Seven Years' 
War. He had since been, if possible, still more dishonored by 
charges of oppression, peculation, and subornation, on which the 
authorities of the province had prosecuted him, and which the 
Parisian Parliament had pronounced to be established. But no 
kind of infamy was a barrier to the favor of Louis XV. He can- 
celled the resolution of the Parliament, and showed such counte- 
nance to the culprit that d'Aiguillon, who was both ambitious and 
covetous, conceived the idea of supplanting Choiseul in the Gov- 
ernment. As one of Choiseul's principal measures had been the 
negotiation of the dauphin's marriage, Marie Antoinette was 
known to regard him with a good-will which was founded on 
gratitude. But, unfortunately, her feelings on this point were 
not shared by her husband ; for Choiseul had had notorious dif- 
ferences with his father, the late dauphin, and, though it was 
perfectly certain that that prince had died of natural disease, peo- 
ple had been found to whisper in his son's ear suspicions that he 
had been poisoned, and that the minister to whom he was un- 
friendly had been concerned in his death. 

The two plots, therefore, to overthrow the minister and to 
weaken the influence of the dauphiness, went hand-in-hand, and, as 
might have been expected from the character of the patroness of 
both, no means were too vile or wicked for the intriguers who had 
set them on foot. Madame du Barri was, indeed, seinously alarmed 
for the maintenance of her own ascendency. The king took such 
undisguised pleasure in his new granddaughter's company, that 
some of the most experienced courtiers began to anticipate that 
she would soon gain entire influence over him.* The mistress 

* The Due de Noailles, brother-in-law of the countess, " I'homme de France 
qui a peut-etre le plus d'esprit et qui connait le mieux son souverain et la 
cour," told Mercy in August that " jugeant d'apr^s son experience et d'apr^s 
les qualites qu'il voyait dans cette princesse, il etait persuade qu'elle gouverne- 
rait un jour I'esprit du roi." — Arneth, i., p. 34. 



INTRIGVES AGAINST MARIE ANTOINETTE. 47 

began, therefore, to disparage her personal charms, never speaking 
of her to Louis (" France," as she generally called him), except as 
" the little blowsy,"* while her ally, De la Vauguyon, endeavored 
to further her views by exerting the influence which he mis- 
takenly flattered himself that he still retained over the dauphin, 
to surround her with his own creatures. He tried to procure the 
dismissal of the Abbe de Vermond, who, having been, as we have 
seen, the tutor of Marie Antoinette at Vienna, still remained at- 
tached to her person as her reader ; and whose complete knowledge 
of all the ways of the court, joined to a thorough honesty and de- 
voted fidelity to her best interests, rendered his services most val- 
uable to his mistress in her new sphere. He sought to recom- 
mend a creature of his own as her confessor ; to obtain for his 
own daughter the appointment of one of her chief ladies; and, 
with a wickedness peculiar to the French court, he even endeav- 
ored to imitate the vile arts by which the Due de Richelieu had 
deprived Marie Leczinska of the affections of the king, to alienate 
the dauphin from his young wife, and to induce him to commit 
himself to the guidance of Madame du Barri. But this part of 
the scheme failed. The dauphin was strangely insensible to the 
personal charms of Marie Antoinette herself, and was wholly in- 
accessible to any inferior temptations ; and, as far as the arrange- 
ments of the court were concerned, the success of the mistress's 
cabal was limited to procuring the dismissal of the mistress of 
the robes, the Countess de Grammont, for refusing to cede to 
Madame du Barri and some of her friends the place which be- 
longed to her office at some private theatricals which were held 
in the palace. 

Louis XIV. had taught his nobles the pernicious notion that an 
order to withdraw from the court was a penal banishment, and 
his successor now banished Madame de Grammont fourteen 
leagues from Versailles, and for some time refused to recall his 
sentence, though Marie Antoinette herself wrote to him to com- 
plain of one of her servants being so treated for such a cause. 
She had not, as she reported to her mother, been very willing to 
write, knowing that Madame du Barri read all the king's letters ; 
but Mercy had urged her to take the step, thinking it very im- 
portant that she should establish the practice of communicating 
directly with Louis on all matters relating to her own household, 

* La petite rousse. 



48 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

and that she should avoid the blunder of his daughters, her aunts, 
whose conduct toward their father had, in his opinion, been mis- 
chievously timid, and to follow whose example would be prejudi- 
cial both to her dignity and to her comfort. 

The aunts too, and especially the eldest, Madame Adelaide, had 
schemes of their own, which they also sought to carry out by un- 
derhand methods. The more conscious they were that they them- 
selves had no influence over their father, the less could they en- 
dure the chance of their niece acquiring any, though it could not 
have been said to have been established at their expense. On the 
other hand, they had before his marriage had considerable power 
with the dauphin, which they had now but little hope of retain- 
ing. They saw also that Marie Antoinette had in a few weeks 
gained a general popularity such as they had never won in their 
whole lives, and on all these accounts they were painfully jealous 
of her. They put ideas and plans into her head which they ex- 
pected to grate upon their father's taste or indolence, and then 
contrived to have them represented or misrepresented to him, 
though he disappointed their malice by regarding such things as 
childish ebullitions natural to a girl of her age, and was far more 
inclined to humor than to reprove her. With the same object, 
they tried to induce her to interfere in appointments in which she 
had no concern ; but she remembered her mother's advice, and 
on this point kept steadily in the path which that aflEectionate 
adviser had marked out for her. They even ventured to make 
disparaging observations on her manners, as inexperienced and 
unformed, to the dauphin himself, till he silenced them by the 
warmth of his praises alike of her beauty and of her disposition ; 
and they were so afraid of any addition to her popularity with 
the nation at large, that, when the city of Paris and the states of 
Languedoc presented her with an address, they recommended her 
to make no reply, assuring her that on similar occasions they 
themselves had never given any answers. Luckily, she had a bet- 
ter adviser, who on this occasion was the Abbe de Vermond. He 
told her truly that in this matter the conduct which the older 
princesses had pursued was a warning, not a pattern : that they 
had made all France discontented; and at his suggestion Marie 
Antoinette gave to each address " an answer full of graciousness, 
with which the public was enchanted." 

Thus in the first year of her marriage, by her kindness of heart, 
guided by the advice of Mercy and the abbe, to which she list- 



A WISH TO LEARN TO RIDE. 49 

ened -witli the greatest docility, she had won general afiEection, and 
had made no enemies but those whose enmity was an honor. She 
was, as she wrote to her mother, perfectly happy, though, had she 
not wished to make the best of matters, she was not, in fact, 
wholly free from disappointments and vexations, some of which 
continued for years to cause her uneasiness and anxiety, though 
others were comparatively trivial or temporary, while one was of 
an almost comical nature. 

She had conceived a great desire to learn to ride. Her mother 
had been a great horsewoman ; and, as the dauphin, like the king, 
was passionately addicted to hunting, which hitherto she had only 
witnessed from a carriage, Marie Antoinette not unnaturally de- 
sired to be mistress of an accomplishment which would enable her 
to give him more of her companionship. Unluckily Mercy dis- 
approved of the idea. It is impossible to read his correspondence 
with the empress, and in subsequent years with Marie Antoinette 
herself, without being forcibly impressed with respect for his 
consummate prudence, his sound judgment in matters of public 
policy, and his unswerving fidelity to the interests of both mother 
and daughter. But at the same time it is difficult to avoid seeing 
that he was too little inclined to make allowance for the youthful 
eagerness for amusements which was natural to her age, and that 
at times he carried his supervision into matters on which his 
statesman-like experience and sagacity had hardly qualified him to 
form an opinion. He was proud of his princess's beauty ; and, 
considering himself in charge of her figure as well as of her con- 
duct, he had made himself very uneasy by the fancied discovery 
that she was becoming crooked. He was sure that one shoulder 
was growing higher than the other ; he earnestly recommended 
stays, and was very much displeased with her aunts for setting 
her against them, because they were not fashionable in Paris. 
And when the horse exercise was proposed, he set his face against 
it ; he wrote to Maria Teresa, who agreed with him in thinking 
it ruinous to the complexion, injurious to the shape, and not to 
be safely indulged in under thirty years of age ;* and, lest distance 
should weaken the authority of the empress, he enlisted Madame 
de Noailles and Choiseul on his side, and Choiseul persuaded the 
king that it was a very objectionable pastime for a young bride. 

* " De monter a cheval gate le teint, et voire taille k la longue s'en ressen- 
tira." — Marie- Tkerese d Marie-Antoinette, Arneth, i., p. 104. 

4 



50 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

There was not as yet the slightest prospect of the dauphiness be- 
coming a mother (a circumstance which was, in fact, the most 
serious of her vexations, and that which lasted longest) : but the 
king on this point agreed with his minister, and after some dis- 
cussion a compromise was hit upon, and it was decided that she 
might ride a donkey. The whole country was immediately ran- 
sacked for a stud of quiet donkeys.'* In September the court 
moved to Compiegne, and day after day, while the king and the 
dauphin were shooting in one part of the woods, on the other 
side a cavalcade of donkey-riders, the aunts and the king's broth- 
ers all swelling Marie Antoinette's train, trotted up and down the 
glades, and sought out shady spots for rural luncheons out-of- 
doors ; and, though even this pastime was occasionally found liable 
to as much danger as an expedition on nobler steeds, the merry 
dauphiness contrived to extract amusement for herself and her 
followers from her very disasters. It was long a standing joke 
that on one occasion, when her donkey and herself came down in 
a soft place, her royal highness, before she would allow her at- 
tendants to extricate her from the mud, bid them go to Madame 
de Noailles, and ask her what the rules of etiquette prescribed when 
a dauphiness of France failed to keep her seat upon a donkey. 

She had also another annoyance which was even of a less royal 
character than being doomed to ride on a donkey. She had ab- 
solutely no pocket-money. For many generations the princes of 
the country had been accustomed to dip their hands so unrestrain- 
edly into the national treasury, that their legitimate appointments 
had been fixed on a very moderate, if not scanty, scale ; so that 
any one who, like the dauphin and dauphiness, might be scrupu- 
lous not to exceed their income (though that scruple had proba- 
bly affected no one before) could not fail to be greatly straitened. 
The allowance of Marie Antoinette was fixed at no higher amount 
than six thousand francs a month ; and of this small sum, accord- 
ing to a report which, in the course of the autumn, Mercy made 
to the empress, not a single crown really reached the princess for 
her private use.f Nearly half of the money was stopped to pay 

* "On fit chercher pai'tout des anes fort doux et tranquilles. Le 21 on 
repeta la promenade sur les anes. Mesdames voulurent etre de la partie 
ainsi que le Comte de Provence et le Corate d'Artois." — Alercy d Marie-The- 
rese, Septembre 19, 1770, Arneth, i., p. 49. 

f " Madame la Dauphine, a laquelle le tre'sor royal doit remettre 6000 frs. 
par mois, n'a reellement pas un ecu dont elle peut disposer elle-meme et sang 
le concours de personne " (Octobre 20). — Arneth, i., p. 69. 



SETTLEMENT OF HER INCOME. 51 

some pensions granted by Marie Leczinska, with whicli the dau- 
phiness could by no possibility have the slightest concern. Al- 
most as much more was intrusted to the gentlemen of her chamber 
for the expenses of the play table, at which she was expected to 
preside, since there was no queen to discharge that duty ; and 
whether her royal highness's cards won or lost, the money equally 
disappeared,* and the remainder was distributed in presents to her 
ladies, at the discretion of Madame de Noailles. Had not Maria 
Teresa, when she first quit Vienna, intrusted Mercy with a thou- 
sand pounds for her use, and had she not herself been singularly 
economical in her ideas, she would have been in the humiliating 
position of being unable to provide for her own most ordinary 
wants, and, a matter about which she was even more anxious, for 
her constant charities. Yet so inveterate was the mismanage- 
ment in both the court and the government, that it was some 
time before Mercy could succeed, by the strongest remonstrances 
supported by clear proofs of the real situation of her royal high- 
ness, in getting her affairs and her resources placed upon a proper 
footing. 

In spite of all the efforts of the cabal, the king's regard for her 
increased daily. He had not for many years been used to being 
treated with respect, and she, not from any artfulness, but from 
her native propriety of feeling, which forbade her ever to forget 
that he was her husband's grandfather and her king, united a tone 
of the most loyal respect with her filial caresses. She called him 
papa, and even paid him the tacit compliment of grounding occa- 
sional requests on considerations of humanity and justice, little 
as such motives had ever influenced Louis, and rarely as their 
names had of late been heard in the precincts of the palace. She 
even induced him to pardon Madame de Grammont ; insisting on 
such a concession as due to herself, when she demanded it for one 
of her own retinue, till he laughed, and replied, " Madame, your 
orders shall be executed." And the steadiness she thus showed 
in protecting her own servants won her many hearts among the 
courtiers, at the same time that it filled her aunts with astonish- 
ment, who, while commending her firmness, could not avoid add- 
ing that "it was easy to see that she did not belong to their 

* " Ses gar<jons de ehambre re9oivent cent louis [a louis was twenty-four 
francs, so that the hundred made 2400 francs out of her 6000] par mois pour 
la depense du jeu de S. A. R. ; et soit qu'elle perde ou qu'elle gagne, on ne 
revolt rien de cette somme." — Arneth, L 



52 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

race."* And how strong as well as how general was the feeling 
of respect and good-will which she had thns diffused was seen in a 
remarkable manner at some of the private theatricals, which were 
a frequent diversion of the king, when the actor, at the end of 
one of his songs, introduced some verses which he had composed 
in her honor, and the whole body of courtiers who were present 
showed their approbation by a vehement clapping of their hands, 
in defiance of a standing order of the court, which prohibited any 
such demonstrations being made in the sovereign's presence.f 

It, however, more than counterbalanced these triumphs that, 
before the end of the year, the cabal of the mistress succeeded in 
procuring the dismissal of Choiseul, and the appointment of the 
Due d'Aiguillon as minister. For Choiseul had been not only a 
faithful, but a most judicious, friend to her. If others showed too 
often that they regarded her as a foreigner, he only remembered 
it as a reason for giving her hints as to the feelings of the nation 
or of individuals which a native would not have required. And 
she thankfully acknowledged that his suggestions had always been 
both kind and useful, and expressed her sense of her obligations 
to him, and her concern at his dismissal to her mother, who fully 
shared her feelings on the subject. 

And, encouraged by this victory over her most powerful adher- 
ent, the cabal began to venture to attack Marie Antoinette herself. 
They surrounded her with spies ; they even spread a report that 
Louis had begun to see through and to distrust her, in the hope 
that, when it should reach the king's own ears, it might perhaps 
lay the foundation of the alienation which it pretended to assert ; 
and they grew the bolder because the king's next brother was 
about to be married to a Savoyard princess, of whose favor De la 
Vauguyon flattered himself that he was already assured. Under 
these circumstances Marie Antoinette behaved with consummate 
prudence, as far at least as her enemies were concerned. She 
despised the efforts made to lower her in the general estimation 
so completely that she seemed wholly unconscious of them. She 
did not even allow herself to be provoked into treating the au- 
thors of the calumnies with additional coldness ; but gave no han- 
dle to any of them to complain of her, so that the critical and 

* " Mme. Adelaide ajouta, ' On voit bien que vous n'etes pas de notre sang.' " 
— Arneth, i., p. 94. 
f Arneth, i., p. 95. 



SLEDGING PARTIES. 53 

anxious eyes of Mercy himself found nothing to wisli altered in 
her conduct toward them.* And throughout the winter she pur- 
sued the even tenor of her way, making herself chiefly remarkable 
by almost countless acts of charity, which she dispensed with such 
judgment as showed that they proceeded, not from a heedless 
disregard of money, but from a thoughtful and vigilant kindness, 
which did not think the feelings any more than the necessities of 
the poor beneath her notice. 

Circumstances to which she contributed only indirectly enhanced 
her popularity and weakened the effects of the mistress's hostil- 
ity. Versailles had not been so gay for many winters, and the 
votaries of mere amusement, always a strong party at every court, 
rejoiced at the addition to the royal family to whom the gayety 
was owing. Louis roused himself to gratify the young princess, 
who enUvened his place with the first respectable pleasures which 
it or he had known for years. When he saw that she liked dra- 
matic performances, he opened the private theatre of the palace 
twice a week. Because she was fond of dancing, he encouraged 
her to have a weekly ball in her own apartments, at which she 
herself was the principal attraction, not solely by the elegance of 
her every movement, but still more by the graciousness with which 
she received and treated her guests, having a kind smile and an 
affable word for all, apparently forgetting her rank in the frank- 
ness of her condescension, yet at the same time bearing herself 
with an innate dignity which prevented the most forward from 
presuming on her kindness or venturing on any undue familiar- 

ity.f 

The winter of IVTO was one of unusual severity; and she 
found resources for a further enlivenment of the court in the 
frost itself. Sledging on the snow was an habitual pastime at 
Vienna, where the cold is more severe than at Paris ; nor in for- 
mer years had sledges been wholly unknown in the Bois de Bou- 
logne. And now Marie Antoinette, whose hardy habits made ex- 
ercise in the fresh air almost a necessity for her, had sledges built 
for herself and her attendants ; and the inhabitants of Versailles 
and the neighborhood, as fond of novelty as all their countrymen, 
were delighted at the merry sledging-parties which, as long as the 

* " Finalement, Mme. la Dauphine se fait adorer de ses entours et du pub- 
lic ; il n'est pas encore survenu un seul inconvenient grave dans sa conduite." 
— Mei'cy d Marie- 7'herese, Novembre 16, Arneth, i., p. 98. 

I Prince de Ligne, " Mem.," ii., p. 79. 



54 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

snow lasted, explored tlie surrounding country, while tlie woods 
rang with the horses' bells, and, almost as loudly and still more 
cheerfully, with the laughter of the company. 

Her liveliness had, as it were, given a new tone to the whole 
court ; and though the dauphin held out longer against the genial 
influence of his wife's disposition than most people, it at last in 
some degree thawed even his frigidity. She ascribed his apathy 
and apparent dislike to female society rather to the neglect or 
malice of his early tutors than to any natural defect of capacity or 
perversity of disposition ; and often lectured him on his deficien- 
cies, and even on some of his favorite pursuits, which she looked 
upon as contributing to strengthen his shyness with ladies. She 
was not unacquainted with English literature, in which the rustic- 
ity and coarseness of the fox-hunting squires formed a piquant 
subject for the mirth of dramatists and novelists ; and if Squire 
Western had been the type of sportsmen in all countries, she 
could not have inveighed more vigorously than she did against 
her husband's addiction to hunting. One evening, when he did 
not return from the field till the play in the theatre was half over, 
she not only frowned upon him all the rest of the entertainment, 
but when, after the company had retired, he began to enter into 
an explanation of the cause of his delay, a scene ensued which it 
will be best to give in the very words of Mercy's report to the 
empress. 

" The dauphiness made him a short but very energetic sermon, 
in which she represented to him with vivacity all the evils of the 
uncivilized kind of life he Avas leading. She showed him that no 
one of his attendants could stand that kind of life, and that they 
would like it the less that his own air and rude manners made no 
amends to those who were attached to his train ; and that, by fol- 
lowing this plan of life, he would end by ruining his health and 
making himself detested. The dauphin received this lecture with 
gentleness and submission, confessed that he was wrong, promised 
to amend, and formally begged her pardon. This circumstance is 
certainly veiy remarkable, and the more so because the next day 
people observed that he. paid the dauphiness much more attention, 
and behaved toward her with a much more lively affection than 
usual."* 

We do not, however, find in reality that the severity of her ad- 

* Mercy to Maria Teresa, dated November lYth, I'Z'ZO, Arneth, i., p. 94. 



THE DAUPHIN'S ADMIRATION OF HIS WIFE. 55 

monitions produced any permanent diminution of his fondness 
for hunting and shooting ; but the gentleness of her general man- 
ners, and the delight which he saw that all around her took in 
her graciousness, so far excited his admiration that he began to 
follow her example. He said that " she had such native grace 
that every thing which she did succeeded to perfection ; that it 
must be admitted that she was charming." And before the end 
of the winter he had come to take an active part both in her Mon- 
day balls, and in those which her ladies occasionally gave in her 
honor ; " dancing himself the whole of the evening, and convers- 
ing with all the company with an air of cheerfulness and good- 
nature of which no one before had ever thought him capable."* 
The happy change in his demeanor was universally attributed to 
the dauphiness ; and, as the character of their future king was 
naturally watched with anxiety as a matter of the highest im- 
portance, it greatly increased the attachment of all who had the 
welfare of the nation at heart to the princess, whose general ex- 
ample had produced so beneficial an effect. 

* Mercy to Maria Teresa, dated February 25th, l'7'7l, Arneth, i., p. 134. 



56 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER V. 

Mercy's Correspondence with the Empress. — Distress and Discontent pervade 
France. — Goldsmith predicts a Revolution. — Apathy of the King. — The 
Aunts mislead Marie Antoinette. — Maria Teresa hears that the Dauphiness 
neglects her German Visitors. — Marriage of the Count de Provence. — Grow- 
ing Preference of Louis XV. for the Dauphiness. — The Dauphiness applies 
herself to Study. — Marie Antoinette becomes a Horsewoman. — Her Kind- 
ness to all beneath her. — Cabals of the Adherents of the Mistress. — The 
Royal Family become united. — Concerts in the Apartments of the Dau- 
phiness. 

Marie Antoinette was not a very zealous or copious letter- 
writer. Her only correspondent in her earlier years was lier moth- 
er, and even to her her letters are less effusive and less full of de- 
tails than might have been expected, one reason for their brevity 
arising out of the intrigues of the court, since she had cause to 
believe herself so watched and spied upon that her very desk was 
not safe ; and, consequently, she never ventured to begin a letter 
to the empress before the morning on which it was to be sent, 
lest it should be read by those for whose eyes it was not intend- 
ed. For our knowledge, therefore, of her acts and feelings at this 
period of her life, we still have to rely principally on Mercy's cor- 
respondence, which is, however, a sufficiently trustworthy guide, 
so accurate was his information, and so entire the frankness with 
which she opened herself to him on all occasions and on all sub- 
jects. 

The spring of lY7l opened very unfavorably for the new ad- 
ministration ; omens of impending dangers were to be seen on all 
sides. Ten or twelve years before. Goldsmith, whose occasional 
silliness of manner prevented him from always obtaining the at- 
tention to which his sagacity entitled him, had named the grow- 
ing audacity of the French parliaments as not only an indication 
of the approach of great changes in that country, but as likely 
also to be their moving cause.* And they had recently shown 

* See the " Citizen of the World," Letter 55. Reference has often been 
made to Lord Chesterfield's prediction of the French Revolution. But I am 
not aware that any one has remarked on the equally acute foresight of Gold- 
smith. 



DISTRESS AND DISCONTENT. 57 

such determined resistance to the royal authority, that, though in 
the most conspicuous instance of it, their assertion of their right 
to pronounce an independent judgment on the charges brought 
against the Due d'Aigixillon, they were unquestionably in the 
right; and though their pretensions were supported by almost 
the whole body of the princes of the blood, some of whom were 
immediately banished for their contumacy, Louis had been per- 
suaded to abolish them altogether. And Marie Antoinette, 
though she carefully avoided mixing herself up with politics, was, 
as she reported to her mother,* astonished beyond measure at 
their conduct, which she looked upon as arising out of the gross- 
est disloyalty, and which certainly indicated the existence of a 
feeling very dangerous to the maintenance of the royal authority 
on the part of those very men who were most bound to uphold 
it. There was also great and general distress. For a moment in 
the autumn it had been relieved by a fall in the price of bread, 
which the unreasoning gratitude of the populace had attributed to 
the benevolence of the dauphiness ; but the severity of the winter 
had brought it back with aggravated intensity till it reached even 
to the palace, and compelled a curtailment of some of the festivi- 
ties with which it had been intended to celebrate the marriage of 
the Count de Provence, which was fixed for the approaching May. 
Distress is the sure parent of discontent, unless the people have 
a very complete confidence in their government. And this was 
so far from being the case in France at this time, that the dis- 
trust of and contempt for those in the highest places increased 
daily more and more. The influence which Madame du Barri ex- 
erted over the king became more rooted as he became more used 
to submit to it, and more notorious as he grew more shameless in 
his avowal of it. She felt her power, and her intrigues became 
in the same proportion more busy and more diversified in their 
objects. In the vigorous description of Mercy, Versailles was 
wholly occupied by treachery, hatred, and vengeance ; not one feel- 
ing of honesty or decency remained ; while the people, ever quick- 
witted to perceive the vices of their rulers, especially when they 
are indulged at their expense, revenged themselves by bitter and 
seditious language, and by satires and pasquinades in which nei- 
ther respect nor mercy was shown even to the sacred person of the 
sovereign himself. He was callous to all marks of contempt dis- 

* Letter of April 16th, lYYl, Arneth, i., p. 148. 



58 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

played for himself; but was, or was induced to profess himself, 
deeply annoyed at the conduct of the dauphin, who showed a 
fixed aversion for the mistress, which, however, his grandfather 
did not regard as dictated by his own feelings. Louis rather be- 
lieved that it was fostered by Marie Antoinette, and that she, in 
encouraging her husband, was but following the advice of her 
aunts ; and he threatened to remonstrate with the dauphiness on 
the subject, though, as Mercy correctly divined, he could not 
nerve himself to the necessary resolution. 

It was true that Marie Antoinette did often allow herself to be 
far too much influenced by those princesses. She confessed to 
Mercy that she was afraid to displease or thwart them ; a feeling 
which he regarded as the more unfortunate because, when she was 
not actuated by that consideration, her own judgment and her 
own impulses would always guide her aright ; and because, too, 
the elder princesses were the most unsafe of all advisers. They 
were notoriously jealous of one another, and each at times tried 
to inspire her niece with her feelings toward the other two ; and 
they often, without meaning it, played into the hands of the mis- 
tress's cabal, intriguing for selfish objects of their own with as 
much malice and meanness as could be practiced by Madame du 
Barri herself. 

Still, in spite of these drawbacks, it was almost inevitable that 
they should have great influence over their niece. Their experi- 
ence might well be presumed by her to have given them a cor- 
rect insight into the ways of the court, and the best mode of be- 
having to their own father; and she, a foreigner and almost a 
child, was not only in need of counsel and guidance, but had no 
one else of her own sex to whom she could so naturally look for 
information or advice. They were, as she explained to Mercy, 
her only society ; and, though she was too clear-sighted not to see 
their faults, and not at times to be aware that she was suffering 
from their perverseness, she, like other people, was often com- 
pelled to tolei'ate what she could not mend, and to shut her eyes 
to disagreeable qualities when forced to live on terms of intimacy 
with the possessors. 

On this point Maria Teresa was, perhaps, hardly inclined to 
make sufficient allowance for her difficulties, and insisted over and 
over again on the mischief which would arise to her from the 
habit of surrendering her judgment to these princesses. She told 
her that, though far from being devoid of virtues and real merit, 



ADVICE OF MABIA TERESA. 59 

" they had never succeeded in making themselves loved or es- 
teemed by either their father or the public ;"* and she added 
other admonitions which, as they vs^ere avowedly suggested by re- 
ports that had reached her, may be taken as indicating some er- 
rors into which her daughter's lightness of heart had occasionally 
betrayed her. She entreated her not to show an exclusive pref- 
erence for the more youthful portion of her society, to the neglect 
of those who were older, and commonly of higher consideration ; 
never to laugh at people or turn them into ridicule — no habit could 
be more injurious to herself, and indulgence in it would give rea- 
son to doubt her good-nature ; it might gain her the applause of 
a few young people, but it would alienate a much greater num- 
ber, and those the people of the most real weight and respecta- 
bility. "This is not," said the experienced and wise empress, " a 
trivial matter in a princess. We live on the stage of the great 
world, and it is above all things essential that people should en- 
tertain a high idea of us. If you will only not allow others to 
lead you astray, you are sure of success ; a kind Providence has 
endowed you so liberally with beauty, and with so many charms, 
that all hearts are yours if you are but prudent."f 

The empress would have had her exhibit this prudence in her 
conduct also to Madame du Barri. She pressed upon her that 
she was justified in appearing ignorant of that lady's real position 
and character ; that she need only be aware that she was received 
at court, and that respect for the king should prevent her from 
suspecting him of countenancing undeserving people. 

One other detail in the accounts of Marie Antoinette's conduct, 
which from time to time reached Vienna, had also vexed the em- 
press, and it should be kept in mind by any one who would fairly 
estimate the truth of the charge brought against her, and urged 
with such rancor after she had become queen — of postponing the 
interests of France to those of her native land, of being Austrian 
at heart. Maria Teresa had heard, on the contrary, that she had 
given those Austrians who had presented themselves at Versailles 
but a cold reception, and she did not attempt to conceal her dis- 
content. With a natural and becoming pride in and jealousy for 
her own loyal and devoted subjects, she entreated her daughter 
never to feel ashamed of them, or ashamed of being German her- 

* Arneth, i., p. 186. 

f Maria Teresa to Marie Antoinette, July 9th, and August 17th, Arneth, i., p. 
196. 



60 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

self, even if, comparatively speaking, the name should imply some 
deficiency in polish. " The French themselves would esteem her 
more if they saw in her something of German solidity and frank- 
ness."* 

The daughter answered the mother with some adroitness. She 
took no notice of the advice about her behavior to Madame du 
Barri. It was the one topic on which her own feelings of propri- 
ety, as well as those of the dauphin, coincided with the sugges- 
tions of the aunts, and she did not desire to vex or provoke the 
empress by a prolonged discussion of the question ; but the charge 
of coldness to her own countrymen she denied earnestly. " She 
should always glory in being a German. Some of those nobles 
whom the empress had expressly named she had treated with 
careful distinction, and had even danced with them, though they 
were not men of the very highest character. She well knew that 
the Germans had many good qualities which she could wish that 
the French shared with them ;" and she promised that, whenever 
any of her mother's subjects of such standing and merit as to be 
worthy of her attention came to the covirt, they should have no 
cause to complain of her reception of them. Her language on 
the subject is so measured and careful as to lead us almost inevi- 
tably to the inference that the reports which had excited such 
dissatisfaction at Vienna were not without foundation, but that 
the French gayety, even if often descending to frivolity, was more 
to her taste than the German solidity which her mother so highly 
esteemed, and that she had been at no great pains to hide a pref- 
erence which must naturally be acceptable to those among whom 
her future life was to be spent. 

In the middle of May, the Count de Provence was married to 
the Princess Josephine Louise of Savoy, and the court went to 
Fontainebleau to receive the bride. The necessity for leaving 
Madame du Barri behind threw the king more into the company 
of the dauphiness than he had been on any previous occasion, 
and her unaffected graces seemed for the moment to have made a 
complete conquest of him. He came in his dressing-gown to her 
apartments for breakfast, and spent a great portion of the day 
there. The courtiers again began to speculate on her breaking 

* "Ne soyez pas honteuse d'etre allemande jusqu'aux gaucheries Le 

FranQais vous estimera plus et fera plus de compte sur vous s'il vous trouve 
la solidite et la franchise allemande." — Maria Teresa to Marie Antoinette, 
May 8th, lYTl, Arneth, i., p. 159. 



THE KING'S PBEFERENCE FOR THE DAUPHINESS. 61 

down the ascendency of the favorite, remarking that, though 
Louis was careful to pay his new relative the honors which were 
her due as a stranger and a bride, he returned as speedily as he 
could with decency to the dauphiness as if for relief ; and that, 
though she herself took care to put her new sister-in-law forward on 
all occasions, and treated her with the most marked cordiality and 
affection, every one else made the dauphiness the principal object 
of homage even in the festivities which were celebrated in honor 
of the countess. Indeed, it was evident from the very first that 
any attempt of the mistress's cabal to establish a rivalry between 
the two princesses must be out of the question. The Countess 
de Provence had no beauty, nor accomplishments, nor gracious- 
ness. Horace Walpole, who was meditating a visit to Paris, 
where he had some diligent correspondents, was told that he 
would lose his senses when he saw the dauphiness, but would be 
disenchanted by her sister; and the saying, though that of a blind 
old lady, expressed the opinion of all Frenchmen who could see.* 

Indeed, so obvious was the king's partiality for her that even 
Madame du Barri more than once sought to propitiate her by 
speaking in praise of her to Mercy, and professing an eager desire 
to aid in procuring the gratification of any of her wishes. But 
he was too shrewd and too well-informed to place the least confi- 
dence in her sincerity, though he did not fear half as much harm 
to his pupil from her enmity as from the pretended affection of 
the aunts, who, from a mixture of folly and treachery, were un- 
wearied in their attempts to keep her at a distance from the king, 
by inspiring her with a fear of him, for which his disposition, 
which had as much good-nature in it as was compatible with 
weakness, gave no ground whatever. Indeed, the mischief they 
did was not confined to their influence over her, if Mercy was cor- 
rect in his belief that it was their disagreeable tempers and man- 
ners which at this time, and for the remainder of the reign, pre- 
vented Louis from associating more with his family, which, had 
all been like the dauphiness, he would have preferred to do. 

It would probably have been in vain that Mercy remonstrated 
against her submitting as she did to the aunts, had he not been 
at all times able to secure the co-operation of the empress, who 
placed the most implicit confidence in his judgment in all matters 
relating to the French court, and remonstrated with her daughter 

* Walpole's letter to Sir H. Mann, June 8th, 17*71, v., p. 301. 



62 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

energetically on tlie want of proper self-respect whicli was im- 
plied in lier surrendering her own judgment to that of the aunts', 
as if she were a slave or a child. And Marie Antoinette replied 
to her mother in a tone of such mingled submissiveness and affec- 
tion as showed how sincere was her desire to remove every shade 
of annoyance from the empress's mind ; and which may, perhaps, 
lead to a suspicion that even her subservience to the aunts pro- 
ceeded in a great degree from her anxiety to win the good-will 
of every one, and from the kindness which could not endure to 
thwart those with whom she was much associated ; though at the 
same time she complained to the embassador that her mother 
wrote without sufficient knowledge of the difficulties with which 
she was surrounded. But she had too deep an affection and rev- 
erence for her mother to allow her words to fall to the ground; 
and gradually Mercy began to see a difference in her conduct, 
and a greater inclination to assert her own independence, which 
was the feeling that above all others he thought most desirable to 
foster in her. 

Another topic which we find constantly urged in the empress's 
letters would seem strangely inconsistent with Marie Antoinette's 
position, if we did not remember how very young she still was. 
For her mother writes to her in many respects as if she were still 
at school, and continually inculcates on her the necessity of prof- 
iting by De Vermond's instructions, and applying herself to a 
course of solid reading in theology and history. And here, 
though her natural appetite for amusement interfered with her 
studies somewhat more than the empress, prompted by Mercy, 
was willing to make allowance for, she profited fliuch more will- 
ingly by her mother's advice, having indeed a natural inclination 
for the works of history and biography, and a decided distaste for 
novels and romances. She could not have had a better guide in 
such matters than De Vermond, who was a man of extensive in- 
formation and of a very correct taste; and under his guidance 
and with his assistance she studied Sully's memoirs, Madame de 
Sevigne's letters, and any other books which he recommended to 
her, and which gave her an idea of the past history of the country 
as well as the masterpieces of the great French dramatists.* 

The latter part of the year iVVl was marked by no very strik- 
ing occurrences. Marie Antoinette had carried her point, and had 

* Mercy to Maria Teresa, January 23d, 17*72, Arneth, i., p. 265. 



MARIE ANTOINETTE'S STUDIES. 63 

begun to ride on horseback witbout either her figure or her com- 
plexion sujiering from the exercise. On the contrary, she was ad- 
mitted to have improved in beauty. She sent her measure to Vien- 
na, to show Maria Teresa how much she had grown, adding that her 
husband had grown as much, and had become stronger and more 
heal thy -looking, and that she had made use of her saddle-horses to 
accompany him in his hunting and shooting excursions. Like a 
true wife, she boasted to her mother of his skill as a shot : the 
very day that she wrote he had killed forty head of game. (She 
did not mention that a French sportsman's bag was not confined 
to the larger game, but that thrushes, blackbirds, and even red- 
breasts, were admitted to swell the list.) And the increased 
facilities for companionship with him that her riding afforded 
increased his tenderness for her, so that she was happier than 
ever. Except that as yet she saw no prospect of presenting the 
empress with a grandchild, she had hardly a wish ungratified. 

Her taste for open-air exercise of this kind added also to the 
attachment felt for her by the lower classes, from the opportuni- 
ties which arose out of it for showing her unvarying and consid- 
erate kindness. The contrast which her conduct afforded to that 
of previous princes, and indeed to that of all the present race ex- 
cept her husband, caused her actions of this sort to be estimated 
rather above their real importance. But how great was the im- 
pression which they did make on those who witnessed them may 
be seen in the unanimity with which the chroniclers of the time 
record her forbidding her postilions to drive over a field of corn 
which lay between her and the stag, because she would rather 
miss the sight of the chase than injure the farmer ; and relate 
how, on one occasion, she gave up riding for a week or two, and 
sent her horses back from Compiegne to Versailles, because the 
wife of her head-groom was on the point of her confinement, and 
she wished her to have her husband near her at such a moment ; 
and on another, when the horse of one of her attendants kicked 
her, and inflicted a severe bruise on her foot, she abstained from 
mentioning the hurt, lest it should bring the rider into disgrace 
by being attributed to his awkward management. 

Not that the intrigues of the mistress and her adherents were 
at all diminished. They were even more active than ever since 
the marriage of the Count de Provence, who, in an underhanded 
way, instigated his wife to show countenance to Madame du Barri, 
and who allowed, if he did not encourage, the mistress and her 



64 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

friends to speak slightingly of the dauphiness in his presence. 
But, as Marie Antoinette felt firmer in her own position, she 
could afford to disregard the malice of these caballers more than 
she had felt that she could do at first, and even to defy them. On 
one occasion that the Count de Provence was imprudent enough 
to discuss some of his schemes with the door open while she was 
in the next room, she told him frankly that she had heard all that 
he said, and reproached him for his duplicity ; and the dauphin 
coming in at the moment, she flew to him, throwing her arms 
round his neck, and telling him how she appreciated his honesty 
and candor, and how the more she compared him with the others, 
the more she saw his superiority. Indeed, she soon began to find 
that the Countess de Provence was as little to be trusted as her 
husband ; and the only member of the family whom she really 
liked, or of whom she had at all a favorable opinion, was the 
Count d'Artois, who, though not yet out of the school -room, 
" showed," as she told her mother, " sentiments of honesty which 
he could never have learned of his governor."* 

Her indefatigable guardian, Mercy, reported to the empress that 
she improved every day. He had learned to conceive a very high 
idea of her abilities ; and he dilated with especial satisfaction on 
the powers of conversation which she was developing ; on her wit 
and readiness in repartee ; on her originality, as well as facility 
of expression ; and on her perfect possession of the royal art of 
speaking to a whole company with such notice of each member 
of it, that each thought himself the person to whom her remarks 
were principally addressed. She possessed another accomplish- 
ment, also, of great value to princes — a tenacious recollection of 
faces and names. And she had made herself acquainted with the 
history of all the chief nobles, so as to be able to make graceful 
allusions to facts in their family annals of which they were proud, 
and, what was perhaps even more important, to avoid unpleasant 
or dangerous topics. The king himself was not insensible to the 
increase of attraction which her charms, both of person and man- 
ner, conferred on the royal palace. He was perfectly satisfied 
with the civility of her behavior to Madame du Barri, who ad- 
mitted that she had nothing to complain of. And the only point 
in which even Mercy, the most critical of judges, saw any room 

* The Due de la Vauguyon, who, after the dauphin's marriage, still re- 
tained his post with his younger brother. 



HER TASTE FOR MUSIC. 65 

for alteration in her conduct was a certain remissness in bestow- 
ing her notice on men of real eminence, and on foreign visitors if 
they were not of the very highest rank ; the remark as to the lat- 
ter class being perhaps dictated by a somewhat excessive natural 
susceptibility, and by a laudable desire that any Germans who re- 
turned from France to their own country should sing her praises 
in her native land. 

Perhaps one of the strongest proofs of the regard in which, at 
this time, she was held by all parties in the court is found in the 
circumstance that the Count de Provence himself very soon found 
it impossible to continue his countenance to the intrigues against 
her which he had previously favored. He preferred ingratiating 
himself and the countess with her. Marie Antoinette was al- 
ways placable, and from the first had been eager, as the head of 
the family, to place her sister-in-law at her ease ; so that when 
the count evinced his desire to stand on a friendly footing with 
her, she showed every disposition to meet his wishes, and the 
spring and summer of 1*772 exhibited to the courtiers, who were 
little accustomed to such scenes, a happy example of an intimate 
family union. Marie Antoinette had always been fond of music, 
and, as we have seen before, ever since her arrival in France, had 
devoted fixed hours to her music-master. And now, on almost 
every evening which was not otherwise preoccupied, she gave lit- 
tle concerts in her apartments to the royal family, their principal 
attendants, and a few of the chief nobles of the court ; being her- 
self occasionally one of the performers, and maintaining her char- 
acter as a hostess by a combined affability and dignity which 
made all her guests pleased with themselves as with her, and set 
all imitation aud all detraction alike at defiance. 

5 



66 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Marie Antoinette wishes to see Paris. — Intrigues of Madame Adelaide. — Char- 
acters of the Dauphin and the Count de Provence. — Grand Review at Fon- 
tainebleau. — Marie Antoinette in the Hunting Field. — Letter from her to 
the Empress. — Mischievous Influence of the Dauphin's Aunts on her Char- 
acter. — Letter of Marie Antoinette to the Empress. — Her Aifection for her 
Old Home. — The Princes are recalled from Exile. — Lord Stormom. — Great 
Fire at the Hotel-Dieu. — Liberality and Charity of Marie Antoinette. — She 
goes to the Bal d'Opera. — Her Feelings about the Partition of Poland.^ 
The King discusses Politics with her, and thinks highly of her Ability. 

It was a curious proof of the mischievousness as well as of the 
extent of the influence which Madame Adelaide and her sister 
were able to exert over the indolence and apathy of their father, 
that when Marie Antoinette had for more than two years been 
married and living within twelve miles of Paris, she had never 
yet seen it by daylight, although the universal and natural expec- 
tation of the citizens had been that the royal pair would pay 
the city a state visit immediately after their marriage. Her own 
wishes had not been consulted in the matter; for she was natu- 
rally anxious to see the beautiful city of which she had heard so 
much ; and the delay which had taken place was equally at vari- 
ance with Madame de Noailles' notions of propriety. But when 
the countess suggested a plan for visiting the capital incognito, 
proposing that the dauphiness should drive as far as the entrance 
to the suburbs, and then, having sent on her saddle-horses, should 
ride along the boulevards, Madame Adelaide, professing a desire 
to join the party, raised so many difficulties on the subject of the 
retinue which was to follow, and Avas so successful in creating 
jealousies between her own ladies and those in attendance on 
Marie Antoinette, that Madame de Noailles was forced to recom- 
mend the abandonment of the project. Mercy was far more an- 
noyed than his young mistress ; he saw that the secret object of 
Madame Adelaide was to throw as many hinderances as possible 
in the way of the dauphiness winning popularity by appearing in 



THE DAUPHIN AND THE COUNT DE PROVENCE. 67 

public, while he also correctly judged that it would be consistent 
both with propriety and with her interest, as the future queen oi 
the country, rather to seek and even make opportunities for en- 
abling the people to become acquainted with her. But to Marie- 
Antoinette any disappointment of that kind was a very trifling 
matter. She had vexations which, as she told the embassador, 
she could not explain even to him ; and they kept alive in her 
a feeling of homesickness which, in all persons of amiable and 
affectionate disposition, must require some time to subdue. Even 
when her brother, the Archduke Ferdinand, had quit Vienna in. 
the preceding autumn to enter on the honorable post of Governor 
of Lombardy, she had not congratulated, but condoled with him, 
" feeling by her own experience how much it costs to be separated 
from one's family." And what she had found in her own home 
did not as yet make up to her for all she had left behind. Ever 
her husband, though uniformly kind in language and behavior, 
was of a singularly cold and undemonstrative disposition ; and 
it almost seemed as if the gayety which he exhibited at her balls 
were an effort so foreign to his nature that he indemnified him 
self by unpardonable boorishness on other occasions. The Count 
de Provence had but little more polish, and a far worse temper. 
Squabbles often took place between the two brothers. Though 
both married men, they were still in age only boys ; and on more 
than one occasion they proceeded to acts of personal violence to 
each other in her presence. Luckily no one else was by, and she 
was able to pacify and reconcile them ; but she could hardly 
avoid feeling ashamed of having been called on to exert herself in 
such a cause, or contrasting the undignified boisterousness (to give 
it no worse name) of such scenes with the decorous self-respect 
which, with all their simplicity of character, had always governed 
the conduct of her own relations. 

Not but that, in the opinion of Mercy,* the dauphin was en- 
dowed by nature with a more than ordinary share of good quail 
ties. His faults were only such as proceeded from an excessive- 
ly bad education. He had many most essential virtues. He was 
a young man of perfect integrity and straightforwardness ; he was 
desirous to hear the truth ; and it was never necessary to beat 
about the bush, or to have recourse to roundabout Avays of bring- 
ing it before him. On the contrary, to speak to him with perfect 

* Mercy's letter to the empress, August 14th, 1772, Arneth, i., p. 335. 



68 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

frankness was the surest way both to win his esteem and to con- 
vince his reason. On one or two occasions in which he had con- 
sulted the embassador, Mercy had expressed his opinions without 
the least reserve, and had perceived that the young prince had 
liked him better for his candor. 

The king still kept up the habit of spending the greater part 
of the autumn at Compiegne and Fontainebleau, visits which Ma- 
rie Antoinette welcomed as a holiday from the etiquette of Ver- 
sailles. She wrote word to her mother that she was growing very 
fast, and taking asses' milk to keep up her strength ; that that reg- 
imen, with constant exercise, was doing her great good ; and that 
she had gained great praise for the excellence of her riding. On 
one occasion, when they were at Fontainebleau, she especially de- 
lighted the officers of her husband's regiment of cuirassiers, when 
the king reviewed it in person. The dauphin himself took the 
command of his men, and put them through their evolutions while 
she rode by his side ; he then presented each of the officers to 
her separately, and she distributed cockades to the whole body. 
The first she gave to the dauphin himself,* who placed it in his 
hat. Each officer, as he received his, did the same. And after 
the king had taken his departure, she, with her husband, remained 
on the field for an hour, conversing freely with the soldiers, and 
showing the greatest interest in all that concerned the regiment. 
Throughout the day the young prince had exhibited a knowledge 
of the profession, and a readiness as well as an ease of manner, 
which had surprised all the spectators, and Mercy had the satis- 
faction of hearing every one attribute the admirable appearance 
which he had made on so important an occasion (for it was the 
first time of his appearing in such a position) to the example and 
hints of the dauphiness. 

It was scarcely less of a public appearance, while it was one in 
which the king himself probably took more interest, when, a few 
days afterward, on the occasion of a grand stag-hunt in the for- 
est, she joined in the chase in a hunting uniform of her own de- 
vising. The king was so delighted that he scarcely left her side, 
and extolled her taste in dress, as well as her skill in horseman- 
ship, to all whom he honored with his conversation. But the 
empress was not quite so well pleased. Her disapproval of horse 
exercise for young married women was as strong as ever. She 

* Mercy to Maria Teresa, November 14th, 1'7'72, Arneth, i., p. SOY. 



SHE BECOMES A SKILLFUL RIDER. 69 

had also interpreted some of lier daughter's submissive replies to 
her admonitions on the subject as a promise that she would not 
ride, and she scolded her severely (no weaker word can express 
the asperity of her language) for neglect of her engagement, as 
well as for the risk of accidents which are incurred by those who 
follow the hounds, and some of which, as she heard, had befallen 
the dauphiness herself. Her daughter's explanation was as frank 
as it deserved to be accounted sufficient, while her letter is inter- 
esting also, as showing her constant eagerness to exculpate herself 
from the charge of indifference to her German countrymen, an 
eagerness which proves how firmly she believed the notion to be 
fixed in the empress's mind. 

" I expect, my dear mamma, that people must have told you 
more about my rides than there really was to be told. I will tell 
you the exact truth. The king and the dauphin both like to see 
me on horseback. I only say this because all the world perceives 
it, and especially while we were absent from Versailles they were 
delighted to see me in my riding-habit. But, though I own it 
was no great effort for me to conform myself to their desires, I 
can assure you that I never once let myself be carried away by 
too much eagerness to keep close to the hounds ; and I hope that, 
in spite of all my giddiness, I shall always allow myself to be re- 
strained by the experienced hunters who constantly accompany 
me, and I shall never thrust myself into the crowd. I should nev- 
er have supposed any one could have reported to you as an acci- 
dent what happened to me at Fontainebleau. Every now and 
then one finds in the forest large stepping-stones ; and as we were 
going on very gently my horse stumbled on one covered with 
sand, which he did not see ; but I easily held him up, and we 

went on Esterhazy was at our ball yesterday. Every one 

was greatly pleased with his dignified manner and with his style 
of dancing. I ought to have spoken to him when he was pre- 
sented to me, and my silence only proceeded from embarrassment, 
as I did not know him. It would be doing me great injustice to 
think that I have any feeling of indifference to my country ; I 
have more reason than any one to feel, every day of my life, the 
value of the blood which flows in my veins, and it is only from 
prudence that at times I abstain from showing how proud I am 

of it I never neglect any mode of paying attention to the 

king, and of anticipating his wishes as far as I can. I hope that 
he is pleased with me. It is my duty to please him, my duty 



70 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

and also my glory, if by sucli means I can contribute to maintain 
the alliance of the two houses "* 

The empress was but half pacified about the riding and hunt- 
ing. She owned that, if both the king and the dauphin approved 
of it, she had nothing more to say, though she still blamed the 
dauphiness for forgetting a promise which she understood to have 
been made to herself. At the same time, no language could be 
kinder than that in which she asked " whether her daughter could 
believe that she would wish to deprive her of so innocent a pleas- 
ure, she who would give her very life to procure her one, if she 
were not apprehensive of mischievous consequences ;" her appre- 
hensions being solely dictated by her anxiety to live to see her 
daughter bear an heir to the throne. But she would by no means 
admit her excuses for giving the Hungarian prince a cold recep- 
tion. " How," she said, " could she forget that her little Antoi- 
nette, when not above twelve or thirteen years old, knew how to 
receive people publicly, and say something polite and gracious to 
every one, and how could she suppose that the same daughter, 
now that she was dauphiness, could feel embarrassment? Em- 
barrassment was a mere chimera." 

But the truth was that it was not a mere chimera. Mercy had 
more than once deplored, as one among the mischievous effects of 
Madame Adelaide's constant interference and domineering influ- 
ence, that it had bred in Marie Antoinette a timidity which was 
wholly foreign to her nature. And indeed it was hardly possible 
for one still so young to be aware that she was surrounded by un- 
friendly intriguers and spies, and to preserve that uniform presence 
of mind which her rank and position made so desirable for her, 
and which was in truth so natural to her that she at once recov- 
ered it the moment that her circumstances changed. 

And a probability of an early change was already apparent. 
During the last months of 1772 there was a general idea that the 
king's health and mental faculties were both giving away ; and all 
the different parties about Versailles began to show their sense of 
her approaching authority. It was remarked that both the min- 
isters and the mistress had become very guarded in their language, 
and in their behavior to her and her husband. The Count de 
Provence took a curious way of showing his expectation of a 
change, by delivering her a long paper of counsels for her guid- 

* Marie Antoinette to Maria Teresa, December 15th, 1'7'72, Arneth, i., p.382. 



HER LETTER TO THE EMPRESS -QUEElSf. 71 

ance, the chief object of which was to warn her against holding 
such frequent conversations with Mercy. She apparently thought 
that the writer's desire was to remove the embassador from her 
confidence that he himself might occupy the vacant place, and she 
showed her opinion of the value of the advice by reading it to 
Mercy and then putting it into the fire. 

Some extracts from the first letter which she wrote to her 
mother in 1773 will serve to give us a fair idea of her feelings at 
this time, both from what it does and from what it does not men- 
tion. The intelligence which has reached her about her sister 
recalls to her mind her own anxiety to become a mother, her dis- 
appointment in this matter being, indeed, one of the most con- 
stant topics of lamentation in the letters of both daughter and 
mother, till it was removed by the birth of the princess royal. 
But that is her only vexation. In every other respect she seems 
perfectly contented with the course which affairs are taking ; 
while we see how thoroughly unspoiled she is both in the warmth 
of the affection with which she speaks of her family and greets 
the little memorials of home which have been sent her ; and still 
more in the continuance of her acts of charity, and in her design 
that her benevolence should be unknown. 

" I hear that the queen* is expecting to be confined. I hope 
her child will be a son. When shall I be able to say the same of 
myself ? They tell me, too, that the grand dukef and his wife are 
going into Spain. I greatly wish that they would conceive a 
dread of the sea-voyage, and take this place in their way. The 
journey would be a little longer ; but they would be well received 
here, for my brother is very highly thought of ; and, besides, I 
am somewhat jealous at being the only one of my family unac- 
quainted with my sister-in-law. 

" The pictures of my little brothers which you have sent me 
have given me great pleasure. I have had them set in a ring, and 
wear it every day. Those who have seen my brothers at Vienna 
pronounce the pictures very like, and every one thinks them very 
good-looking. New-year's-day here is a day of a great crowd and 
grand ceremony. There was nothing either to blame or to praise 
in the degree in which I adopted my dear mamma's advice. The 
Favorite came to pay her respects to me at a moment when my 

* Her sister Caroline, Queen of Naples. 

\ Her brother Leopold,, at present Grand Duke of Tuscany, afterward em- 
peror. His wife, Marie Louise, was a daughter of Charles III. of Spain. 



72 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

apartment was very full. It was impossible for me to address 
myself to every one separately, so I spoke to the whole company 
in a body; and I have reason to believe that both the Favorite 
and her sister, who is her principal adviser, were pleased ; though 
I have also reason to believe that, two days afterward, M. d'Aiguil- 
lon tried to persuade them that they had been ill-treated. As for 
the minister himself, he has never complained of me, and, indeed, 
I have always been careful to treat him equally well with the rest 
of his colleagues. 

" You will have learned, my dear mamma, that the Due d'Or- 
leans and the Due de Chartres are returned from banishment. I 
am glad of it for the sake of peace, and for that of the tranquil- 
lity and comfort of the king. But, if she had been in the king's 
place, I do not think my dear mamma would have accepted the 
letter which they have dared to write, and which they have got 
printed in foreign newspapers.* 

" I was glad to see M. de Stormont.f I asked him all the news 
about my dear family, and it was a pleasure to him to inform me. 
He seems to me tq have overcome his prejudices, and every one 
here thinks him a man of thorough high-breeding. I have de- 
sired M. de Mercy to invite him to one of my Monday balls. We 
are going to have one at Madame de Noailles'. They will last till 
Ash- Wednesday. They will begin an hour or two later than they 

* They, with several of the princes of the blood and some of the peers, as 
already mentioned, had been banished for their opposition to the abolition 
of the Parliaments ; but now, in the hopes of obtaining the king's consent to 
his marriage with Madame de Montessan, a widow of enormous wealth, the 
Due d'Orleans made overtures for forgiveness, accompanying them, however, 
with a letter so insolent that it might well be regarded as an aggravation of 
his original offense. According to Madame du Deffand (letter to Walpole, 
December 18th, 1772, vol. ii., p. 293), he was only prevented from reconciling 
himself to the king some months before by his son, the Due de Chartres (af- 
terward the infamous Egalite), whom she describes as " a young man, very 
obstinate, and who hopes to play a great part by putting himself at the head 
of a faction." The princes, however, in the view of the shrewd old lady, had 
made the mistake of greatly overrating their own importance. " These great 
princes, since their protest, have been just citizens of the Rue St. Denis. No 
one at court ever perceived their absence, and no one in the city ever noticed 
their presence." 

\ Lord Stormont, the English Embassador at Vienna, from which city he 
was removed to Paris. In the preceding September Maria Teresa had com- 
plained of him as being " animated against her cabinet, from indignation at 
the partition of Poland," 



SHE BEADS HUME'S HISTORY. 73 

used to, that we may not be so tired as we were last year when 
we came to Lent. In spite of the amusements of the carnival, I 
am always faithful to my poor harp, and they say that I make 
great progress with it. I sing, too, every week at the concert 
given by my sister of Provence. Although there are very few 
people there, they are very well amused ; and my singing gives 
great pleasure to my two sisters.* I also find time to read a lit- 
tle. I have begun the 'History of England' by Mr. Hume. It 
seems to me very interesting, though it is necessary to recollect 
that it is a Protestant who has written it. 

"All the newspapers have spoken of the terrible fire at the H6- 
tel-Dieu.f They were obliged to remove the patients into the 
cathedral and the archbishop's palace. There are generally from 
five to six thousand patients in the hospital. In spite of all the 
exertions that were made, it was impossible to prevent the de- 
struction of a great part of the building ; and, though it is now a 
fortnight since the accident happened, the fire is still smoldering 
in the cellars. The archbishop has enjoined a collection to be 
made for the sufferers, and I have sent him a thousand crowns. 
I said nothing of my having done so to any one, and the compli- 
ments which they have paid me on it have been embarrassing to 
me ; but they have said it was right to let it be known that I had 
sent this money, for the sake of the example." 

She was on this, as on many other occasions, one of those who 

" Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame." 

One of her sayings, with which she more than once repressed 
the panegyrics of those who, as it seemed to her, extolled her be- 
nevolence too loudly, was that it was not worth while to say a 
great deal about giving a little assistance ; and, on this occasion, 
so secret had she intended to keep her benevolence that she had 
not mentioned it to De Vermond, or even to Mercy. But she 
judged rightly that the empress would enter into the feelings 

* That is, sisters-in-law — the Princesses Clotilde and Elizabeth. 

f The Hotel-Dieu was the most ancient hospital in Paris. It had already 
existed several hundred years when Philip Augustus enlarged it, and gave it 
the name of Maison de Dieu. Henry IV. and his successors had further en- 
larged it, and enriched it with monuments ; and even the revolutionists re- 
spected it, though when they had disowned the existence of God they changed 
its name to that of L'Hospice de FHumanite. It had been almost destroyed 
by fire a fortnight before the date of this letter, on the night of the 29th of 
December. 



74 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

which had prompted both the act and also the silence ; and she 
was amply rewarded by her mother's praise. 

" I have been enchanted," the empress wrote, in instant reply, 
" with the thousand crowns that you have sent to the Hotel-Dieu, 
and you speak very properly in saying that you have been vexed 
at people speaking to you about it. Such actions ought to be 
known to God alone, and I am certain that you acted in that 
spirit. Still, those who published your act had good reasons for 
what they did, as you say yourself, thinking of the influence of 
your example. My dear little girl, we owe this example to the 
world, and to set such is one of the most essential and most deli- 
cate duties of our condition. The more frequently you can per- 
form acts of benevolence and generosity without crippling your 
means too much, the better ; and what would be ostentation and 
prodigality in another is becoming and necessary for those of our 
rank. We have no other resources but those of conferring bene- 
fits and showing kindness ; and this is even more the case with a 
dauphiness or a queen consort, which I myself have not been." 

There could hardly be a better specimen of the principles on 
which the empress herself had governed her extensive dominions, 
or of the value of her example and instructions to her daughter, 
than that which is contained in these few lines ; but it is not al- 
ways that such lessons are so closely followed as they were by 
the virtuous and beneficent dauphiness. The winter passed on 
cheerfully ; the ordinary amusements of the palace being varied 
by her going with the dauphin and the Count and Countess of 
Provence to one of the public masked balls of the opera-house, a 
diversion which, considering the unavoidably mixed character of 
the company, it is hard to avoid thinking somewhat unsuited to 
so august a party, but one which had been too frequently counte- 
nanced by different members of the royal family for several years 
for such a visit to cause remarks, though the masks of the princes 
and princesses could not long preserve their secret. Another fa- 
vorite amusement of the court at this time was the representation 
of proverbs, in which Marie Antoinette acted with the little Eliza- 
beth ; and we have a special account of one such performance, 
which was given in her honor by one of her ladies, having been 
originally devised for the Day of Saint Anthony, as her saint's 
day,* though it was postponed on account of her being confined 

* St. Anthony's Day was June 14th, and her name of Antoinette was re- 
garded as placing her under his especial protection. 



THE PARTITION OF POLAND. 75 

to her room -with a cold. The proverb was, " Better late than 
never;" and, as the most acceptable compliment to the dauphin- 
ess, the managers introduced a number of characters attired in a 
diversity of costumes, intended to represent the natives of all the 
countries ruled over by the Empress-queen, each of whom made a 
speech, in which the praises of Maria Teresa and Marie Antoinette 
were happily combined. 

The king got better, and intrigues of all kinds were revived; 
but, aided by Mercy's counsels, and supported by the dauphin's 
unalterable affection, Marie Antoinette disconcerted all that were 
aimed at her by the uniform prudence of her conduct. Happily 
for her, with all his defects, her husband was still one in whom 
she could feel perfect confidence. As she told Mercy, under any 
conceivable circumstances she was sure of his views and inten- 
tions being always right ; the only difficulty was to engage him 
in a sufficiently decided course of action, which his timid and 
sluggish disposition rendered almost painful to him. And just 
at this moment she was more anxious than usual to inspire him 
with her own feelings and spirit, because she could not avoid fear- 
ing that the discontent with which the few people in France wdio 
deserved the name of statesmen regarded the recent partition of 
Poland might create a coolness between France and Austria, cal- 
culated to endanger the alliance, the continuance of which was so 
indispensable to her happiness, and, as she was firmly convinced, 
to the welfare of both countries. She conversed more than once 
with Mercy on the subject, and her reflections, both on the parti- 
tion and on the degree in which the mutual interest of the two 
nations was concerned in their remaining united, gave him a very 
good idea of her political capacity. He also reported to his im- 
perial mistress that he had found out that King Louis had con- 
ceived the same opinion of her, and had begun to discuss affairs 
of importance with her. He trusted that his majesty would get 
a habit of doing so ; since, if his life should be spared, she would 
thus in time become able to exert a very useful influence over 
him ; and as, at all events, " it was absolutely certain that some 
day or other she would govern the kingdom, it w-as of the very 
greatest consequence to the success of the great and brilliant ca- 
reer which she had before her that she should previously accus- 
tom herself to regard affairs with such principles and views as 
were suitable to the position which she must occupy." 



76 LIFE OP MAIilE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Marie Antoinette is anxious for the Maintenance of the Alliance between 
France and Austria. — She, with the Dauphin, makes a State Entry into 
Paris. — The " Dames de la Halle." — She praises the Courtesy of the Dau- 
phin. — Her Delight at the Enthusiasm of the Citizens. — She, with the Dau- 
phin, goes to the Theatre, and to the Fair of St. Ovide, and to St. Cloud. — 
Is enthusiastically received everywhere. — She learns to drive. — She makes 
some Relaxations in Etiquette. — Marriage of the Comte d'Artois. — The 
King's Health grows Bad. — Visit of Marshal Lacy to Versailles. — The King 
catches the Small-pox. — Madame du Barri quits Versailles. — The King 
dies. 

Politics were, indeed, taking sucli a bold over Marie Antoinette 
that they begin to furnish some topics for her letters to her moth- 
er, one of which shows that she had already formed that opinion 
of French fickleness which she had afterward too abundant cause 
to maintain. " I do hope," she says, " that the good intelligence 
between our two nations will last. One good thing in this coun- 
try is, that if ill-natured feelings are quick to arise, they disappear 
with equal rapidity. The King of Prussia is innately a bad neigh- 
bor, but the English will also always be bad neighbors to France, 
and the sea has never prevented them from doing her great mis- 
chief." We might, firstly, demur to any actions of our statesmen 
being classed with the treacherous aggressions of Frederick of 
Prussia, nor did many years of her husband's reign pass over be- 
fore the greatest of English ministers proposed and concluded a 
treaty between the two countries, which he fondly and wisely 
hoped would lay thp foundations of a better understanding, if not 
of a lasting peace, between the two countries. But even before 
that treaty was framed, and before Pitt's voice had become pre- 
dominant in the State, Marie Antoinette's complaint that the sea 
had never disarmed us of power to injure France had received 
the strongest exemplification that as yet the history of the two 
nations afforded in Rodney's great victory. However, she soon 
turns to more agreeable subjects, and proceeds to speak of a pleas- 
ure to which she was looking forward, and which, as we have al- 
ready seen, had been unaccountably deferred till this time, in de- 



THE STATE ENTRANCE INTO PARIS. V7 

fiance of all propriety and of all precedent. " I hope that the 
dauphin and I shall make our entry into Paris next month, which 
will be a great delight to me. I do not venture to speak of it 
yet, though I have the king's promise : it would not be the first 
time that they had made him change his mind." 

The most elaborate exposure of the cabals and intrigues which 
ever since her marriage had been persistently directed against 
Marie Antoinette could not paint them so forcibly as the simple 
fact that three years had now elapsed since her marriage; and 
that, though the state entrance of the heir of the crown and his 
bride into the metropolis of the kingdom ought to have been a 
prominent part of the marriage festivities, it had never yet taken 
place. Nor, though Louis had at last given his formal promise 
that it should be no longer delayed, did the young pair even yet 
feel sure that an influence superior to theirs might not induce 
him to recall it. However, at last the intrigues were baffled, and, 
on the 8th of June, the visit, which had been expected by the 
Parisians with an eagerness exceeding that of the dauphiness her- 
self, was made. It was in every respect successful ; and it is due 
to Marie Antoinette to let the outline of the proceeding be de- 
scribed by herself. 

" Versailles, June 14th. 

" My dearest Mother, — I absolutely blush for your kindness 
to me. The day before yesterday Mercy sent me your precious 
letter, and yesterday I received a second. That is indeed passing 
one's fete day happily. On Tuesday I had a fete which I shall 
never forget all my life. We made our entrance into Paris. As 
for honors, we received all that we could possibly imagine ; but 
they, though very well in their way, were not what touched me 
most. What was really affecting was the tenderness and earnest- 
ness of the poor people, who, in spite of the taxes with which 
they are overwhelmed, were transported with joy at seeing us. 
When we went to walk in the Tuileries, there was so vast a crowd 
that we were three-quarters of an hour without being able to 
move either forward or backward. The dauphin and I gave re- 
peated orders to the Guards not to beat any one, which had a 
very good effect. Such excellent order was kept the whole day 
that, in spite of the enormous crowd which followed us everywhere, 
not a person was hurt. When we returned from our walk we 
went up to an open terrace, and staid there half an hour. I can 
not describe to you, my dear mamma, the transports of joy and 



78 LIFE OF MAHIF ANTOINETTE. 

affection whicli every one exhibited toward us. Before we with- 
drew we kissed our hands to the people, which gave them great 
pleasure. What a happy thing it is for persons in our rank to 
gain the love of a whole nation so cheaply ! Yet there is noth- 
ing so precious : I felt it thoroughly, and shall never forget it, 

" Another circumstance which gave great pleasure on that glo- 
rious day was the behavior of the dauphin. He made admirable 
replies to every address, and remarked every thing that was done 
in his honor, and especially the earnestness and delight of the 
people, to whom he showed great kindness. Of all the copies of 
verses which were given me on this occasion, these are the pretti- 
est which I inclose to you.* To-morrow we are going to Paris 
to the opera. There is great anxiety for us to do so ; and I be- 
lieve that we shall go on two other days also to visit the French 
and the Italian comedy, I feel more and more, every day of my 
life, how much my dear mamma has done for my establishment, 
I was the youngest of all her daughters, and she has treated me as 
if I were the eldest ; so that my whole soul is filled with the most 
tender gratitude. 

" The king has had the kindness to procure the release of three 
hundred and twenty prisoners, for debts due to nurses who have 
brought up their children. Their release took place two days 
after our entrance. I wished to attend Divine service on my fete 
day ; but the evening before, my sister, the Countess of Provence, 
had a party for me, a proverb with songs and fire-works, and this 
distraction forced me to put off going to church till the next day. 

" I am very glad to hear that you have such good hope of the 
continuance of peace. While the intriguers of this country are 
devouring one another, they will not harass their neighbors nor 
their allies." 

She does not enter into details ; the pomp and ceremony of 
their reception by nobles and magistrates had been in her eyes as 
nothing in comparison with the cordial welcome given to them 
by the poorer citizens. While they, on their part, must have 
been equally gratified at perceiving the sincere pleasure with 
which she and the dauphin accepted their salutations ; a feeling 
how different from that which had animated any of their princes 
for many years, we may judge from the order given to the guards 

* They have not, however, been preserved. 



SPLENDOR OF THE SCENE IN THE FRENCH CAPITAL. 79 

to forbear beating the crowd whicli gatliered round them, as no 
doubt, without such an order, the soldiers would have thought it 
usual and natural to do. 

Not that the proceedings of the day had not been magnificent 
and imposing enough to attract the admiration of any who thought 
less of the hearts of the citizens than of pomp and splendor. The 
royal train, conveyed from Versailles in six state carriages, was 
received at the city gate by the governor, the Marshal Due de 
Brissac, accompanied by the head of the police, the provost of the 
merchants, and all the other municipal authorities. The marshal 
himself was the heir of the Comte de Brissac who, nearly two cent- 
uries before, being also Governor of Paris, had tendered to the 
victoi'ious Henry IV. the submission of the city. But Henry was 
as yet only the chief of a party, not the accepted sovereign of the 
whole nation ; and the enthusiasm with which half the citizens 
raised their shouts of exultation in his honor had its drawback in 
the sullen silence of the other half, who regarded the great Bour- 
bon as their conqueror rather than their king, and his triumphant 
entrance as their defeat and humiliation. 

To-day all the citizens were but one party. As but one voice 
was heard, so but one heart gave utterance to it. The joy Avas as 
unanimous as it was loud. From the city gates the royal party 
passed on to the great national cathedral of Notre Dame, and 
from thence to the church dedicated by Clovis, the first Christian 
king, to St. Genevieve, whose recent restoration was the most 
creditable work of the present reign, and which subsequently, un- 
der the new name of the Pantheon, was destined to become the 
resting-place of many of the worthies whose memory the nation 
cherishes with enduring pride. At last they reached the Tuile- 
ries, their progress having been arrested at different points by 
deputations of all kinds with loyal and congratulatory addresses ; 
at the Hotel-Dieu by the prioress with a company of nuns ; on 
the Quai Conti by the Provost of the Mint with his officers ; be- 
fore the college bearing the name of its founder, Louis le Grand, 
the Rector of the University, at the head of his students, greeted 
them in a Latin speech, at the close of which he secured the re- 
doubling of the acclamations of the pupils by promising them a 
holiday. Not that the cheers required any increase. The citizens 
in their ecstasy did not even think their voices sufficient. As the 
royal couple moved slowly through the gardens of the Tuileries 
arm-in-arm, every hand was employed in clapping, hats were 



80 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

thrown up, and every token of joy which enthusiasm ever de- 
vised was displayed to the equally delighted visitors, " Good 
heavens, what a crowd !" said Marie Antoinette to De Brissac, 
who had some difficulty in keeping his place at her side. " Ma- 
dame," said the old warrior, as courtly as he was valiant, " if I 
may say so without offending my lord the dauphin, they are all 
so many lovers." \yhen they had made the circuit of the garden 
and returned to the palace, the most curious part of the day's cer- 
emonies awaited them. A banqueting-table was arranged for six 
hundred guests, and those guests were not the nobles of the na- 
tion, nor the clergy, nor the most renowned warriors, nor the mu- 
nicipal officers, but the fish-women of the city market. A custom 
so old that its origin can not be traced had established the right 
of these dames to bear an especial part in such festivities. In the 
course of the morning they had made their future queen free of 
their market, with an offering of fruits and flowers. And now, 
as, according to a singular usage of the court, no male subject was 
ever allowed to sit at table with a queen or dauphiness of France, 
the dinner party over which the youthful pair, sitting side by side, 
presided, consisted wholly of these dames whose profession is not 
generally considered as imparting any great refinement to the 
manners, and who, before the close of the entertainment, showed, 
in more cases than one, that they had imported some of the no- 
tions and fashions of their more ordinary places of resort into the 
royal palace. 

It was characteristic of Marie Antoinette that, in her descrip- 
tion of the day to her mother, she had dwelt with special empha- 
sis on the gracious deportment of her husband. It was equally 
natural for Mercy to assure the empress* that it had been the 
grace and elegance of the dauphiness herself which had attracted 
general admiration, and that it was to her example and instruc- 
tion that every one attributed the courteous demeanor which, as 
he did not deny, the young prince had unquestionably exhibited. 
It was she whom the king, as he affirmed, had complimented on 
the result of the day ; a success which she had gracefully attrib- 
uted to himself, saying that he must be greatly beloved by the 
Parisians to induce them to give his children so splendid a recep- 
tion.f To whomsoever it was owing, the embassador certainly 

* Mercy to Maria Teresa, June 16th, 17*73, Arneth, i., p. 467. 
f " Marie Antoinette, Louis XVI., et la Famille Royale," p. 23. 



SHE VISITS THE PARISIAN THEATRES. 81 

did not exaggerate the opinion of the world around him when he 
affirmed that, in the memory of man, no one recollected any cere- 
mony Avhich had made so great a sensation, and had been attend- 
ed by so complete a success. 

And it was followed up, as she expected, by several visits to the 
different Parisian theatres, which, in compliance with the king's 
express direction, were made in all the state which would have 
been observed had he himself been present. Salutes were fired 
from the Bastile and the Hotel des Invalides ; companies of Roy- 
al Guards lined the vestibule and the passages of the theatre ; sen- 
tinels stood even on the stage ; but, fond as the French are of 
martial finery and parade, the spectators paid little attention to 
the soldiers, or even to the actors. All eyes were fixed on the 
dauphiness alone. At Mercy's suggestion, the dauphin and she 
had previously obtained the king's permission to allow the vio- 
lation of the rule which forbade any clapping of hands in the 
presence of royalty. This relaxation of etiquette was hailed as a 
great condescension by the play -goers, and throughout the evening 
of their appearance at the Italian comedy the spectators had al- 
ready made abundant use of their new privilege, when the enthu- 
siasm was brought to a height by a chorus which ended with the 
loyal burden of " Vive le roi !" Clerval, the performer of the 
principal part, added, " Et ses chers enfants ;" and the compliment 
was re-echoed from every part of the house with continued clap- 
ping and cheering, till it reminded Marie Antoinette of a some- 
what similar scene which, as a child, she had witnessed in the the- 
atre of Vienna,* when the empress, from her box, had announced 
to the audience that a son (the heir to the empire) had just been 
born to the Archduke Leopold. 

The ice being thus, as it were, once broken, the dauphin and 
dauphiness took many opportunities of appearing in public dur- 
ing the following months, visiting the great Paris fair of St. 
Ovide, as it was called, walking up and down the alleys, and mak- 
ing purchases at the stalls ; the whole Place Louis XV., to which 
the fair had recently been removed, being illuminated, and the 
crowd greeting them with repeated and enthusiastic cheers. They 
also went in state to the exhibition of pictures at the Louvre, and 
drove to St. Cloud to walk about the park attached to that palace, 
which was one of the most favorite places of resort for the Paris- 

* Marie Antoinette to Maria Theresa, July lYth, Arneth, ii., p. 8. 
6 



82 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

ians on the fine summer evenings ; so that, while the com't was 
at Versailles, scarcely a week elapsed without her giving them an 
opportunity of seeing her, in which it was evident that she fully 
shared their pleasure. To be loved was with her a necessity of 
her very nature ; and, as she was constantly referring with pride 
to the attachment felt by the Austrians for her mother, she fixed 
her own chief wishes on inspiring with a similar feeling those 
who were to become her and her husband's subjects. She was, 
at least for the time, rewarded as she desired. This is, indeed, 
said they, the best of innovations, the best of revolutions,* to see 
the princes mingling with the people, and interesting themselves 
in their amusements. This was really to unite all classes ; to at- 
tach the country to the palace and the palace to the country ; and 
it was to the dauphiness that the credit of this new state of 
things was universally attributed. 

She was looking forward to a greater pleasure in a visit from 
her brother, the emperor, which the empress hoped might be at- 
tended with consequences more important than those of passing 
pleasure ; since she trusted to his influence, and, if opportunity 
should occur, to his remonstrances, to induce the dauphin to break 
through the unaccountable coldness with which, in some respects, 
he still treated Ms beautiful wife. But Joseph was forced to 
postpone his visit, and the fulfillment of the empress's anticipa- 
tions was also postponed for some years. 

However, Marie Antoinette never allowed disappointments to 
dwell in her mind longer than she could help. She rather strove 
to dispel the recollection of them by such amusements as were 
within her reach. She learned to drive, and found great diver- 
sion in being her own charioteer through the glades of the for- 
est. She began to make further inroads in the court etiquette, 
giving balls in which she broke through the custom which pre- 
scribed that special places should be marked out for the royal 
family, and directed that the princes and princesses should sit 
with the rest of the company during the intervals between the 
dances ; an arrangement which enabled her to talk to every one, 
and which gained her general good-will from the graciousness of 
her manner. She did not greatly trouble herself at the jealousy 
of her popularity openly displayed by her aunts and her sister- 



* " Histoire de Marie Antoinette," par M. de Goncourt, p. 50. Quoting an 
unpublished journal by M. M. Hardy, in the Royal Library. 



DECLINE OF THE KINO'S HEALTH. 83 

in-law, wlio could not bear to hear her called " La bellissima."* 
Nor was her influence weakened when, in November, a fresh prin- 
cess, the sister of Madame de Provence, arrived from Italy, to be 
married to the Comte d'Artois, for the bride was even less attract- 
ive than her sister. According to Mercy, she was pale and thin, 
had a long nose and a wide mouth, danced badly, and was very 
awkward in manner. So that Louis himself, though usually very 
punctilious in his courtesies to those in her position, could not 
forbear showing how little he admired her. 

An incident occurred on the evening of the marriage which is 
worth remarking, from the change which subsequently took place 
in the taste of the dauphiness, who a few years afterward pro- 
voked unfavorable comments by the ardor with which she sur- 
rendered herself to the excitement of the gaming-table. As a 
matter of course, a grand party was invited to the palace to cele- 
brate the event of the morning ; and, as an invariable part of such 
entertainments, a table was set out for the then fashionable game 
of lansquenet, at which the king himself played, with the royal 
family and all the principal persons of the court. In the course 
of the evening Marie Antoinette won more than seven hundred 
pounds; but she was rather embarrassed than gratified by her 
good fortune. She had tried to lose the money back ; but, as she 
had been unable to succeed, the next morning she sent the greater 
part of it to the curates of Versailles to be distributed among the 
poor, and gave the rest to some of her own attendants who seemed 
to her to need it, being determined, as she said, to keep none of it 
for herself. 

The winter revived the apprehensions concerning the king's 
health ; he was manifestly sinking into the grave, while 

" That which should accompany old age, 
As love, obedience, honor, troops of friends, 
He might not look to have." 

His very mistress began with greater zeal than ever, though with 
no better taste, to seek to conciliate the dauphiness. She tried to 
purchase her good-will by a bribe. She was aware that the prin- 
cess greatly admired diamonds, and, learning that a jeweler of Paris 
had a pair of ear-rings of a size and brilliancy so extraordinary 

* It is the name by which she is more than once described in Madame 
du Deffand's letters. See her " Correspondence," ii., p. 357. 



84 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

that the price which he asked for them was 700,000 francs, she 
persuaded the Comte de Noailles to carry them to Marie Antoi- 
nette to show them, with a message from herself that if the dau- 
phiness liked to keep them, she would induce the king to make 
laer a present of them.* Whether Marie Antoinette admired them 
or not, she had far too proper a sense of dignity to allow herself 
to be entrapped into the acceptance of an obligation by one whom 
she so deservedly despised. She replied coldly that she had jew- 
els enough, and did not desire to increase the number. But the 
overture thus made by Madame du Barri could not be kept se- 
cret, and more than one of her partisans followed the hint afford- 
ed by her example, and showed a desire to make their peace with 
their future queen. The Due d'Aiguillon himself was among the 
foremost of her courtiers, and entreated the mediation of Mercy 
in his favor, making the embassador his messenger to assure her 
that " he should impose it upon himself as a law to comply with 
her wishes in every thing;" and only desired that he might be 
allowed to know which of the requests that she might make were 
dictated by her own judgment, and which merely proceeded from 
her indulgent favor to the importunities of others. For Marie 
Antoinette had of late often broken through the rule which, in 
compliance with her mother's advice, she had at fii'st laid down 
for herself, to abstain from recommending persons for preferment ; 
and had pressed many a petition on the minister's notice as to 
which it was self-evident that she could know nothing of their 
merits, nor feel any personal interest in their success. 

In the spring of 1*7 7 4 she had an opportunity of convincing 
her mother that any imputation of neglect of her countrymen 
when visiting the court was unfounded, by the marked honors 
which she paid to Marshal Lacy, one of the most honored veter- 
ans of the Seven Years' War. Knowing how highly he was es- 
teemed by her mother, she took care to be informed beforehand 
of the day of his arrival. She gave orders that he should find 
invitations to her parties awaiting him. She made arrangements 
to give him a private audience even before he saw the king, where 
her reception of him showed how deep and ineffaceable was her 
love for her family and her old home, even while fairly recog- 
nizing the fact that her first duties and her first affections now 
belonged to France. The old warrior avowed that he had been 

* Mercy to Maria Teresa, December 11th, 17Y3, Arneth, ii., p. 81. 



LAST ILLNESS OF LOUIS XV. 85 

greatly moved by the touching afEection with which she spoke to 
him of her love and veneration for her mother ; and by the tears 
which he saw in her eyes when she said that the one thing want- 
ing to her happiness was the hope of being allowed one day to 
see that dear mother once more. She showed him some of the 
last presents which the empress had sent her, and dwelt with fond 
minuteness of observation on some views of Schonbrunn and oth- 
er spots in the neighborhood of Vienna which were endeared to 
her by her early recollections. 

The return of mild weather seemed to be bringing with it some 
return of strength to the king, when, on the 28th of April, he was 
suddenly seized with illness, which was presently pronounced by 
the physicians to be the small -pox. All was consternation at 
Versailles, for it was soon perceived to be a severe if not a malig- 
nant attack ; and at the same time all was perplexity. Thirty 
years before, when Louis had been supposed to be on his death- 
bed at Metz, bishops, peers,, and ministers had found in the loss of 
royal favor reason to repent the precipitation with which they 
had insisted on the withdrawal of Madame de Chateauroux ; and 
now, should he again recover, it was likely that Madame du Barri 
would be equally resentful, and that the confessor who should 
make her removal a necessary condition of his administering the 
sacraments of the Church to the king, and the courtiers who 
should support or act upon their requisition, would surely find 
reason to repent it. Accordingly, for the first few days of Lou- 
is's illness, she remained at Versailles ; but he grew visibly worse. 
His daughters, who, though they had not had the disease them- 
selves, tended his sick-bed with the most devoted and fearless af- 
fection, consulted the physicians, who declared it dangerous to ad- 
mit of any further delay in the ministration of the rites of the 
Church. He himself gave his sanction to the ladies' departure, 
and then the royal confessor administered the sacraments, and 
drew up a declaration to be published in the royal name, that, 
" though he owed no account of his conduct to any but God 
alone, he nevertheless declared that he repented having given rise 
to scandal among his subjects, and only desired to live for the 
support of religion and the welfare of his people." 

Even this avowal the Cardinal de Roche-Aymer promised Ma- 
dame du Barri to suppress ; but the royal confessor, the Abbe 
Mandoux, overruled him, and compelled its publication, in spite 
of the Due de Richelieu, the chief confidant of the mistress, and 



86 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

long the chief minister and promoter of the king's debaucheries, 
who insulted the cardinal with the grossest abuse for his breach of 
promise.* It may be doubted whether such a compromise with 
profligacy, and such a profanation of the most solemn rites of the 
Church by its ministers, were not the greatest scandal of all ; but 
it was in too complete harmony with their conduct throughout 
the whole of the reign. And, as it was impossible but that re- 
ligion itself should suffer in the estimation of worldly men from 
such an open disregard of all but its mere outward forms, it can 
hardly be denied that the French cardinals and prelates about the 
court had almost as great a share in bringing about that general 
feeling of contempt for all religion which led to that formal disa- 
vowal of God himself which was witnessed twenty years later, as 
the scoffers who were now uniting against it, or the professed in- 
fidels who then renounced it. Such as it was, the king's act of 
penitence was not performed too soon. At the end of the first 
week of May all prospect of his recovery vanished. Mortification 
set in, and on the 10th of May he died. 



* " Memoires de Besenval," i., p. 304. 



CONFUSION AND AGITATION AT VERSAILLES. 87 



CHAPTER VIII. 

The Court leaves Versailles for La Muette. — Feelings of the New Sovereigns. 
— Madame du Barri is sent to a Convent. — Marie Antoinette writes to Maria 
Teresa. — The Good Intentions of the New Sovereigns. — Madame Adelaide 
has the Small-pox. — Anxieties of Maria Teresa. — Mischievous Influence of 
the Aunts. — Position and Influence of the Count de Mercy. — ^Louis consults 
the Queen on Matters of Policy. — Her Prudence. — She begins to Purify the 
Court, and to relax the Rules of Etiquette. — Her Care of her Pages. — ^The 
King and she renounce the Gifts of Le Joyeux Avenement and La Cein- 
ture de la Reine. — She procures the Pardon of the Due de Choiseul. 

Throughout the morning of the 10th of May there was great 
confusion and agitation at Versailles. The physicians declared 
that the king could not live out the day; and the dauphin had 
decided on removing his household to the smaller palace of La 
Muette at Choisy, to spend in that comparative retirement the first 
week or two after his grandfather's death, during which it would 
hardly be decorous for the royal family to be seen in public. But, 
as it was not thought seemly to appear to anticipate the event by 
quitting Versailles while Louis was still alive, a lighted candle was 
placed in the window of the sick-room, which, the moment that 
the king had expired, was to be extinguished, as a signal to the 
equerries to prepare the carriages. The dauphin and dauphiness 
were in an adjoining room awaiting the intelligence, when, at 
about three o'clock in the afternoon, a sudden trampling of feet 
was heard, and Madame de Noailles entered the apartment to en- 
treat them to advance into the saloon to receive the homage of 
the princes and principal officers of the court, who were wait- 
ing to pay their respects to their new sovereigns. They came 
forward arm-in-arm ; and in tears, in which sincere sorrow was 
mingled with not unnatural nervousness, received the salutations 
of the courtiers, and immediately afterward left Versailles with 
all the family. 

Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette had now reached the pinnacle 
of human greatness, as sovereigns of one of the noblest empires in 
the world. Yet the first feelings which their elevation had excited 
in both, and especially in the queen, were rather those of dismay 



88 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

and perplexity than of exultation. In the preceding autumn, 
Mercy* had remarked to the empress, with surprise and vexa- 
tion, that, though the dauphiness exhibited singular readiness and 
acuteness in comprehending political questions, she was very un- 
willing, and, as it seemed to him, afraid of dealing with them, 
and that she shrunk from the thought that the day would come 
when she must possess power and authority. And the continu- 
ance of this feeling is visible in her first letter to her mother, some 
passages of which show a sobriety of mind under such a change 
of circumstances, which, almost as much as the benevolence which 
the letter also displays, augured well for the happiness of the peo- 
ple over whom she was to reign, so far at least as that happiness 
depended on the virtues of the sovereign. 

" Choisy, May 14th. 

" My dearest Mother, — Mercy will have informed you of the 
circumstances of our misfortune. Happily his cruel disease left 
the king in possession of his senses till the last moment, and his 
end was very edifying. The new king seems to have the affection 
of his people. Two days before the death of his grandfather, he 
sent two hundred thousandf francs to the poor, which has produced 
a great effect. Since he has been here, he has been working un- 
ceasingly, answering with his own hand the letters of the minis- 
ters, whom as yet he can not see, and many others likewise. One 
thing is certain, arid that is that he has a taste for economy, and 
the greatest desire possible to make his people happy. In every 
thing he has as great a desire to be rightly instructed as he has 
need to be. I trust that God will bless his good intentions. 

"The public expected great changes in a moment. The king 
has limited himself to sending away the creature^ to a convent, 
and to driving from the court every thing which is connected with 
that scandal. The king even owed this example to the people of 
Versailles, who, at the very moment of his grandfather's death, 

* Mercy to Maria Teresa, August 14th, I'Z'ZS, Arneth, ii., p. 31. 

■f- The money was a joint gift from herself as well as from him. Great dis- 
tress, arising from the extraordinarily high price of bread, was at this time 
prevailing in Paris. 

\ The term most commonly used by Marie Antoinette in her letters to her 
mother to describe Madame du Barri. She was ordered to retire to the Ab- 
bey of Pont-aux-Dames, near Meaux. Subsequently she was allowed to return 
to Luciennes, a villa which her royal lover had given her. 



APPOINTMENTS IN HER HOUSEHOLD. 89 

insulted Madame de Mazarin,* one of the humblest servants of the 
favorite. I am earnestly entreated to exhort the king to mercy 
toward a number of corrupt souls who had done much mischief for 
many years ; and I am strongly inclined to comply with the request. 
****** * 

"A messenger has just arrived to forbid my going to see my 
Aunt Adelaide, who has a great deal of fever. They are afraid of 
the small-pox for her. I am horrified, and can not bring myself 
to think of the consequences. It is a terrible thing for her to pay 
so immediately for the sacrifice which she made. 

" I am very glad that Marshal Lacy was pleased with me. I 
confess, my dear mamma, that I was greatly affected when he 
took leave of me, at thinking how rarely it happens to me to see 
any of my countrymen, and especially of those who have the hap- 
piness to approach you. A little time back I saw Madame de 
Marmier, which was a great pleasure to me, since I know how 
highly you value her. 

"The king has allowed me myself to name the ladies who are 
to have places in my household, now that I am queen ; and I have 
had the satisfaction of giving the Lorrainersf a proof of my re- 
gard, in taking for my chief almoner the Abbe de Sabran, a man 
of excellent character, of noble birth, and already named for the 
bishopric about to be established at Nancy. 

"Although it pleased God that I should be born in the rank 
which I this day occupy, still I can not forbear admiring the boun- 
ty of Providence in choosing me, the youngest of your daughters, 
for the noblest kingdom in Europe. I feel more than ever what 
I owe to the tenderness of my august mother, who expended such 
pains and labor in procuring for me this splendid establishment. 
I have never so greatly longed to throw myself at her feet, to em- 
brace her, to lay open my whole soul to her, and to show her how 
entirely it is filled with respect and tenderness and gratitude." 

It is impossible to read these glowing words, so full of the joy 
and hope of youth, and breathing a confidence of happiness ap- 

* Madame de Mazarin was the lady who, by the fulsomeness of her servil- 
ity to Madame du Barri, provoked Madame du DefPand (herself a lady not, 
altogether sans rejn'oche) to say that it was not easy to carry " the heroism of 
baseness and absurdity farther." 

f Lorraine had become a French province a few years before, on the death 
of Stanislaus Leczinsky, father of the queen of Louis XV. 



90 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

parently so well-founded, since it was built on a resolution to use 
the power placed in the writer's hands for the welfare of the peo- 
ple over whom it was to be exerted, without reflecting how pain- 
ful a contrast to the hopes now expressed is presented by the 
reality of the destiny in store for her and her husband. At the 
moment he was as little disturbed by forebodings of evil as his 
queen, and willingly yielded to her request to add a few lines with 
his own hand to the empress, that, on so momentous an occasion 
as his accession she might not be left to gather his feelings solely 
from her report of them. The postscript of the letter is accord- 
ingly their joint performance, he evidently desiring to gratify Ma- 
ria Teresa by praise of her daughter ; and she, while pleased at 
his acquiescence, not concealing her amusement at the clumsiness, 
or, to say the least, the rusticity, of some of his expressions. 

P.S. in the king's hand : "I am very glad, my dear mamma, 
to find an occasion to prove to you my tenderness and my attach- 
ment. I should be very glad to have your advice at this time, 
which is so embarrassing. I should be enchanted to be able to 
please you, and to show by my conduct all my attachment and the 
gratitude which I feel for your kindness in giving me your daugh- 
ter, with whom I am as well satisfied as possible." 

P.S. by the queen : " The king would not let my letter go 
without adding a word from himself. I am quite aware that it 
would not have been too much for him to do to write an entire 
letter. But I must beg my dear mamma to excuse him, in con- 
sideration of the mass of business with which he is occupied, and 
also a little on account of his timidity and the embarrassed man- 
ner which is natural to him. You see, my dear mamma, by his 
compliment at the end, that, though he has great affection for me, 
he does not spoil me by insipid flatteries." 

It is almost equally remarkable that the empress herself, though 
thus to see her favorite daughter on the throne of France had 
been her most ardent wish, was far from regarding the consum- 
mation of her desires with unalloyed pleasure. She was so com- 
pletely a politician above all things, that, though she was well 
aware that Louis XV. had been one of the most infamous kings 
that ever dishonored a throne, she looked upon him solely as an 
ally ; described him to her daughter as " that good and tender 
prince ;" declared that she should never cease to regret him, and 
that she would wear mourning for him all the rest of her life. 
At the same time, she did not conceal from herself that he had 



LOUIS INFLUENCED BY HIS AUNTS. 91 

left 'his kingdom in a most deplorable condition. She had, as 
she declared, herself experienced how heavy is the burden of an 
empire ; she reflected how young her daughter was ; and ex- 
pressed a sad fear that " her days of happiness were over." " She 
was now in a position in which there was no half-way between 
complete greatness and great misery."* The best hopes for her 
future the empress saw in the character for purity and kindness 
which Marie Antoinette had already established, and in the esteem 
and affection of the people which those qualities had won for 
her ; and she entreated her, taking it for granted that in advising 
her she was advising the king also, to be prudent and cautious, to 
avoid making any sudden changes, and above all things to main- 
tain the alliance between the two countries, and to listen to the 
experienced and faithful advice of her embassador. 

Maria Teresa was mistaken when she thought that her daughter 
would at all times be able to lead her husband. Though slow in 
action, Louis was not deficient in perception. On many subjects 
he had views of his own, which, in some cases, were clear and 
sound enough, and to which, even when they were not so, he ad- 
hered with considerable tenacity. At the same time, though he 
had but little affection for his aunts, and still less respect for their 
judgment, he had been so long accustomed to listen to their ad- 
vice while he had no authority, that he could not as yet wholly 
shake off all feeling of deference for it, and their influence was 
exerted with most mischievous effect in the first week of his reign. 
Indeed, it had been exhibited even before the reign began, though 
the form which it took greatly interfered with the personal com- 
fort of the young sovereigns. It had been settled that the king 
and queen should go by themselves to La Muette, and that the 
rest of the royal family should remove to the Trianon. But Ma- 
dame Adelaide had no inclination for a plan which would sepa- 
rate her from her nephew at a moment when so many matters of 
importance would come before her for decision. At the last mo- 
ment she prevailed upon him to consent that the whole family 
should go to Choisy together ; and the very next day she induced 
him to dismiss his ministers, and to place the Comte de Maurepas 
at the head of the Government, though Louis himself had selected 
another statesman for the office, M. Machault, who, as finance min- 
ister twenty-five years before, had shown both ability and integ- 

* Maria Teresa to Marie Antoinette, May 18th, and to Mercy on the same 
day, Arneth, ii., p. 149. 



92 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

rity, and who had enjoyed the confidence of the king's father, 
and though Maurepas had never been supposed to be either able 
or honest, and might well have been regarded as superannuated, 
since he had begun his ofiicial life under Louis XIV. 

With the change in the position of Marie Antoinette, Mercy's 
position had also been changed, and likewise his view of the line 
of conduct which it was desirable for her to adopt. Hitherto he 
had been the counselor of a princess who, without wary walking, 
was liable every moment to be overwhelmed by the intrigues with 
which she was surrounded ; and his chief object had been to en- 
able his royal pupil to escape the snares and dangers which en- 
compassed her. Now, as far as his duties could be detei-mined by 
the wish of the empress, in which her daughter fully acquiesced, 
he was elevated to the post of confidential adviser to a great queen, 
who, in his opinion, was inevitably destined to be the real ruler 
of the kingdom. It was a strange position for so experienced a 
politician as the empress to desire for him, and for so prudent a 
statesman to accept. Yet, anomalous as it was, and dangerous as 
it would usually be for a foreign embassador to interfere in the 
internal politics of the kingdom to which he is sent, his corre- 
spondence bears ample testimony to both his sagacity and his 
disinterestedness. And it would have been well for both his roy- 
al pupil and her adopted country had his advice more frequently 
and more steadily guided the course of both. 

On one point of primary importance his advice to the queen 
differed from that which he had been wont to give to the dau- 
phiness. While dauphiness, he had urged her to abstain from 
any interference in public affairs. He now, on the contrary, de- 
sired to see her take an active part in them, explaining to the em- 
press that the reason which actuated him was the character of 
the new king, who, as he regarded him, was never likely to exert 
the authority which belonged to him with independence or stead- 
iness, but was certain to be led by some one or other, while it 
would in the highest degree endanger the maintenance of the al- 
liance between France and Austria (which, coinciding with the 
judgment of his imperial mistress, he regarded as the most im- 
portant of all political objects), and be most injurious to the wel- 
fare of France and to her own personal comfort, if that leader 
should be any one but the queen.* 

* See his letter of 8th May to Maria Teresa. " II faut que pour la suite 



FIBST MEASURES OF THE NEW REIGN. 93 

But, as we have seen, lie could not prevent Louis from yielding 
at times to other influences. Taking the same view of the situa- 
tion as the empress, if indeed Maria Teresa had not adopted it 
from him, he had urged Marie Antoinette to prevent any change 
in the ministry being made at first, in which it is highly probable 
that she did not coincide with him, though equally likely that 
Maurepas was not the minister whom she would have preferred. 
Another piece of advice which he gave was, however, taken, and 
with the happiest effect. The poorer classes in Paris and its 
neighborhood were suffering from a scarcity which almost amount- 
ed to a famine ; and, before the death of Louis XV., Mercy had 
recommended that the first measure of the new reign should be 
one which should lower the price of bread. That counsel was 
too entirely in harmony with the active benevolence of the new 
monarch to be neglected. The necessary edicts were issued. In 
twenty-four hours the price of the loaf was reduced by two-fifths, 
and Mercy had the satisfaction of hearing the relief generally at- 
tributed to the influence of the new queen. 

It can not be supposed that the king knew either the opinion 
which the empress and the embassador had formed of his capacity 
and disposition, or the advice which they had consequently given 
to the queen. But he very early began to show that he himself 
also appreciated his wife's quickness of intelligence and correct- 
ness of judgment. Maria Teresa, in pressing on her daughter her 
opinion of the general character of the policy which the interest 
of France required, explained her view of her daughter's position 
to be that she was "the friend and confidante of the king."* 
And June had hardly arrived before he began to discuss all his 
plans and difficulties with her; while she spared his pride and 
won his further confidence by avoiding all appearance of press- 
ing for it, as if her advice were necessary to him, but at the same 
time showing with what satisfaction she received it. To those 
who solicited her intervention, her language was most carefully 
guarded. " She did not," she said, " interfere in any affair of 

de son bonheur, elle commence h s'emparer de I'autorite que M. le Dauphin 
n'exercera jamais que d'une fa9on convenable, et . . . . ce serait du dernier 
danger et pour I'etat et pour le systeme general que qui que ce soit s'emparat 
de M. le Dauphin et qu'il fut conduit par autre que par Madame la Dau- 
phine." — Arneth, ii., p. 137. 

* " Je parle a I'amie, h, la confidente du roi." — Maria Teresa to Marie Antoi- 
nette, May 30th, 1770, Arneth, ii., p. 155. 



94 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

state ; she only coincided in all tlie wishes and intentions of the 
king." 

There were, however, matters which were strictly and exclusive- 
ly within her own province ; and in them she at once began to 
exert her authority most beneficially. Her first desire was to 
purify the court where licentiousness in either sex had long been 
the surest road to royal favor. She began by making a regula- 
tion that she would receive no lady who was separated from her 
husband ; and she abolished a senseless and inexplicable rule of 
etiquette which had hitherto prohibited the queen and princesses 
from dining or supping in company with their husbands.* Such 
an exclusion from the king's table of those who were its most 
natural and becoming ornaments had notoriously facilitated and 
augmented the disorders of the last reign ; and it was obvious 
that its maintenance must at least have a tendency to lead to a 
repetition of the old irregularities. Fortunately, the king was as 
little inclined to approve of it as the queen. All his tastes were 
domestic, and he gladly assented to her proposal to abolish the 
custom. Throughout the reign, at all ordinary meals, at his sup- 
pers when he came in late from hunting, when he had perhaps 
invited some of his fellow-sportsmen to share his repast, and at 
State banquets, Marie Antoinette took her seat at his side, not 
only adding grace and liveliness to the entertainment, but effect- 
ually preventing license, and even the suspicion of scandal ; and, 
as she desired that her household as well as her family should set 
an example of regularity and propriety to the nation, she exer- 
cised a careful superintendence over the behavior of those who 
had hitherto been among the least-considered members of the royal 
establishment. Even the king's confessor had thought the morals 
of the royal pages either beneath his notice or beyond his control ; 
but Marie Antoinette took a higher view of her duties. She con- 
sidered her pagesf as placed under her charge, and herself as 
bound to extend what one of themselves calls a maternal care and 
kindness to them, restraining as far as she could, and when she 

* " Jusqu'4 present I'etiquette de cette cour a toujours interdit aux reines 
et princesses royales de manger avec des hommes." — Mercy to Maria Teresa, 
June 'Zth, 1*774, Arneth, ii., p. 164. 

\ "Elle me traite, ^ mon arrivee, comme tous les jeunes gens qui compo- 
saient ses pages, qu'elle comblait de bontes, en leur montrant une bienveillance 
pleine de dignite, mais qu'on pouvait aussi appeler maternelle." — Maria-The. 
rese, Memoires de Tilly, i., p. 25. 



UNWILLINGNESS TO BURDEN THE PEOPLE. 95 

could not restrain, reproving tlieir boyisli excesses, softening their 
hearts and winning their affections by the gentle dignity of her 
admonitions, and by the condescending and hopeful indulgence 
with which she accepted their expressions of contrition and their 
promises of amendment. In one matter, too, which, if not exact- 
ly political, was at all events of public interest, she acted in a 
manner of which none of her predecessors had set an example. 
By a custom of immemorial antiquity, at the accession of a new 
sovereign, a tax had been levied on the whole kingdom as an of- 
fering to the king, known as " the gift of the happy accession ;"* 
and when there was a queen, a similar tax was imposed upon the 
Parisians, to provide what was called " the girdle of the queen."f 
It has already been mentioned that the distress which existed 
in Paris at this time was so severe that, just before the death of 
the late king, Louis and Marie Antoinette had relieved it by a 
munificent gift from their private purse ; and to lay additional 
burdens on the people at such a time was not only repugnant to 
their feelings, but seemed especially inconsistent with their recent 
generosity. Accordingly, the very first edict of the new reign an- 
nounced that neither tax would be imposed. The people felt the 
kindness which dictated such a relief more than even the relief it- 
self, and repaid it with expressions of gratitude such as no French 
sovereign had heard for above a century ; but Marie Antoinette, 
with the humility natural to her on such subjects, made light of 
her own share in the act of benevolence, turning off the compli- 
ments which were paid to her with a playful jest, that it was im- 
possible for a queen to affix a purse to her girdle, now that gir- 
dles had gone out of fashion.^ 

On another subject, also, not wholly unconnected with politics, 
since the nobleman concerned had once been the chief minister, 
but in which Marie Antoinette's interest was personal, she broke 
through her usual rule of not beginning the discussion with the 
king, and requested the recall from banishment of the Due de 
Choiseul. An unfounded prejudice, based upon calumnies set on 
foot by the cabal of Madame du Barri, had envenomed Louis's 

* Le don, ou le droit, de joyeux av^nement. 

f La ceinture de la reine. It consisted of three pence (deniers) on each hogs- 
head of wine imported into the city, and was levied every three years in the 
capital. — Arneth, ii., p. 179. 

\ The title " ceinture de la reine " had been given to it because in the old 
times queens and all other ladies had carried their purses at their girdles. 



96 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

mind against the duke. He had been led to suspect that his 
own father, the late dauphin, had been poisoned, and that Choi- 
seul had been accessory to the crime. There was nothing more 
certain than that the dauphin's death had been natural ; but a 
dislike of the accused duke lingered in the king's mind, and he 
eluded compliance with his wife's request till she put it on entire- 
ly personal grounds, by declaring it to be humiliating to herself 
that one to whom she was under the deepest obligations as the 
negotiator of her own happy marriage should be under the king's 
displeasure without her being able to procure his pardon. Louis 
felt the force of the appeal thus made to him. "If she used 
that argument, he could deny her nothing," and the duke's sen- 
tence was remitted, though his royal patroness was unable to pro- 
cure his re-admission to office. Nor did Maria Teresa regret that 
she failed in that object ; since she feared his restless character, 
and felt the alliance between the two countries safer in the hands 
of the new foreign secretary, the Count de Vergennes. 



INTEIOUES OF THE COMTE DE PROVENCE. 97 



CHAPTER IX. 

The Comte de Provence intrigues against tlie Queen. — The King gives her the 
Little Trianon. — She lays out an English Garden. — Maria Teresa cautions 
her against Expense. — The King and Queen abolish some of the Old Forms. 
— The Queen endeavors to establish Friendships with some of her Younger 
Ladies. — They abuse her Favor. — Her Eagerness for Amusement. — Louis 
enters into her Views. — Etiquette is abridged. — Private Parties at Choisy. 
— Supper Parties. — Opposition of the Princesses. — Some of the Courtiers 
are dissatisfied at the Relaxation of Etiquette. — Marie Antoinette is ac- 
cused of Austrian Preferences. 

Her accession to the throne, however, had not entirely dehv- 
ered Marie Antoinette from intrigues. It had only changed their 
direction and object, and also the persons of the intriguers. Her 
chief enemy now was the prince who ought to have been her best 
friend, the next brother of her husband, the Comte de Provence. 
Among the papers of Louis XV. the king had found proofs, in 
letters from both count and countess, that they had both been 
actively employed in trying to make mischief, and to poison the 
mind of their grandfather against the dauphiness. They became 
still more busy now, since each day seemed to diminish the prob- 
ability of Marie Antoinette becoming a mother; while, if she 
should leave no children, the Comte de Provence would be heir to 
the throne. He scarcely made any secret that he was already 
contemplating the probability of his succession ; and, as there 
were not wanting courtiers to speculate also on the chance, it soon 
became known that there was no such sure road to the favor of 
monsieur* as that of disparaging and vilifying the queen. There 
might have been some safety for her in being put on her guard 
against her enemy ; and the king himself, who called his brother 
Tartuffe, did, in consequence of his discovery, use great caution 
and circumspection in his behavior toward him ; but Marie An- 
toinette was of a temper as singularly forgiving as it was open : 
she could not bear to regard with suspicion even those of whose 

* The title by which the count was usually known ; that of the countess 
was madame. 

7 



98 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

unfriendliness and treachery she had had proofs ; and after a few 
days she resumed her old familiarity with the pair, as if she had 
no reason to distrust them, slighting on this subject the remon- 
strances of Mercy, who pointed out to her in vain that she was 
putting weapons into their hands which they would be sure to 
turn against herself. 

At this moment she was especially happy with a new pastime. 
Amidst the stately halls of Versailles she had often longed for a 
villa on a smaller scale, which she might call her own ; and the 
wish was now gratified. On one side of the park of Versailles, 
and about a mile from the palace, the late king had built an ex- 
quisite little pavilion for his mistress, which was known as the 
Little Trianon. There had been a building of one kind or an- 
other on the same spot for above a century. Louis XIV. had 
erected there a cottage of porcelain for his imperious favorite, Ma- 
dame de Montespan ; and it was the more sumptuous palace with 
which, after her death, he replaced it, that gave rise to the strange 
quarrel between the haughty monarch and his equally haughty 
minister, Louvois, of which St. Simon has left us so curious an ac- 
count.* This had been allowed to fall into a state of decay; 
and a few years before his death, Louis XV. had pulled down 
what remained of it, and had built a third on its foundations, 
which had been the most favorite abode of Madame du Barri dur- 
ing his life, but which was now rendered vacant by her dismissal. 
The house was decorated with an exquisite delicacy of taste, in 
which Louis XV. had far surpassed his predecessor ; but the chief 
charm of the place was generally accounted to be the garden, 
which had been laid out by Le Notre, an artist, whose original 
genius as a landscape gardener was regarded by many of his con- 
temporaries as greatly superior to his more technical skill as an 
architect.! 

A few hundred yards off was another palace, the Great Tria- 
non; but it was the Little Trianon which caught the queen's 
fancy ; and, on her expression of a wish to have it for her own, 
the king at once made it over to her ; and, pleased with her new 
toy, Marie Antoinette, still a girl in her impulsive eagerness for a 
fresh pleasure (she was not yet nineteen), began to busy herself 
with remodeling the pleasure-grounds with which it was sur- 

* St. Simon, 1*709, ch. v., and I'ZlS,, eh. i., vols, vil and xiil,,ed. 1829. 
f Ihid., 1*700, ch. XXX., vol. ii., p. 469. 



SHE LAYS OUT AJV ENGLISH GARDEN. 99 

rounded. Before the time of Le Notre, tlie finest gardens in tile 
country had been laid out on what was called the Italian plan. 
He was too good a patriot to copy the foreigners : he drove out 
the Italians, and introduced a new arrangement, known as the 
French style, which was, in fact, but an imitation of the stiff, form- 
al Dutch mode. But of late the English gardeners had estab- 
lished that supremacy in the art which they have ever since main- 
tained ; and the present aim of every fashionable horticulturist 
in France was to copy the effects produced on the banks of the 
Thames by Wise and Browne. 

Marie Antoinette fell in with the prevailing taste. She im- 
ported English drawings and hired English gardeners. She 
visited in person the Count de Caraman, and one or two other 
nobles, who had already done something by their example to in- 
oculate the Parisians with the new fashion. And presently lawns 
and shrubberies, winding walks and irregularly shaped flower-beds, 
supplanted the stately uniformity of teiTaces, alleys converging 
on central fountains, or on alcoves as solid and stiff as the palace 
itself, and trees cut into all kinds of fantastic shapes, which had 
previously been regarded as the masterpieces of the gardeners' in- 
vention. Her happiness was at its height when, at the end of a 
few months, all was completed to her liking, and she could invite 
her husband to an entertainment in a retreat which was wholly 
her own, and the chief beauties of which were her own work. 

As yet, therefore, all ■^as happiness, and prospect of happiness. 
Even Maria Teresa, whose unceasing anxiety for her daughter 
often induced her to see the worst side of things, was rendered 
for a moment almost playful by the reports which reached Vien- 
na of the universal popularity of " Louis XVI. and his little 
queen !" " She blushed," she said, " to think that in thirty- 
three years of her reign she had not done as much as Louis had 
done in thirty -three days."* But she still warned her daughter 
that every thing depended on keeping up the happy impression 
already made ; that much still remained to be done. And the 
queen's answer showed that her new authority had brought with 
it some cares. " It is true," she writes, " that the praises of the 
king resound everywhere. He deserves it well by the uprightness 
of his heart, and the desire which he has to act rightly ; but this 
French enthusiasm disquiets me for the future. The little that I 

* Arneth, ii., p. 206. 



100 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

understand of business shows nie that some matters are full of 
difficulty and embarrassment. All agree that the late king has left 
his affairs in a very bad state. Men's minds are divided ; and it 
will be impossible to please all the world in a country where the 
vivacity of the people wants every thing to be done in a moment. 
My dear mamma is quite right when she says we must lay down 
principles, and not depart from them. The king will not have 
the same weakness as his grandfather. I hope that he will have 
no favorites; but I am afraid that he is too mild and too easy. 
You may depend upon it that I will not draw the king into any 
great expenses." (The empress had expressed a fear lest the 
Trianon might prove a cause of extravagance.) " On the contra- 
ry, I, of my own accord, have refused to make demands on him 
for money which some have recommended me to make." 

Some relaxations, too, of the formality which had previously 
been maintained between the sovereign and the subordinate mem- 
bers of the royal family, and especially an order of the king that 
his brothers and sisters were not in private intercourse to address 
him as his majesty, had grated on the empress's sense of the 
distance always to be preserved between a monarch and the very 
highest of his subjects. And she had complained that reports 
had reached her that " there was no distinction between the 
queen and the other princesses ; and that the familiarity subsist- 
ing in the court was extreme." But Marie Antoinette replied, in 
defense of the king and herself, that there was " great exagger- 
ation in these reports, as indeed there was about every thing that 
went on at the court ; that the familiarity spoken of was seen but 
by very few. It is not for me," she said, " to judge ; but it seems 
to me that what exists among us is only the air of kindly affec- 
tion and gayety which is suitable to our age. It is true that the 
Count d'Artois" (who had been the special subject of some of 
the empress's unfavorable comments) " is very lively and very 
giddy, but I can always keep him in order. As for my aunts, no 
one can any longer say that they lead me ; and as for monsieur 
and madame, I am very far from placing entire confidence in them. 

"I must confess that I am fond of amusement, and am not 
very greatly inclined to grave subjects. I hope, however, to im- 
prove by degrees ; and, without ever mixing myself up in in- 
trigues, to qualify myself gradually to be of service to the king 
when he makes me his confidante, since he treats me at all times 
with the most perfect affection." 



HER DESIRE FOR PRIVATE FRIENDSHIPS. 101 

Her reflections on the impulsiveness and impatience of the 
French character, and of the difficulties which those qualities 
placed in the path of their rulers, justify the praises which Mer- 
cy had lavished on her sagacity, for it is evident that to them the 
chief troubles of her later years may be clearly traced. And it 
is difficult to avoid agreeing with her rather than with her moth- 
er, and thinking the most entire freedom of intercourse between 
the king and his nearest relations as desirable as it was natural. 
Royalty is, as the empress herself described it, a burden sufficient- 
ly heavy, without its weight being augmented by observances and 
restrictions which would leave the rulers without a single friend 
even among the members of their own family. And probably 
the empress herself might have seen less reason for her admoni- 
tions on the subject, had it not been for the circumstance, which 
was no doubt unfortunate, that the royal family at this time con- 
tained no member of a graver age and a settled respectability of 
character who might, by his example, have tempered the exuber- 
ance natural to the extreme youth of the sovereigns and their 
brothers. 

Not that Marie Antoinette was content to limit the number of 
those whom she admitted to familiarity to her husband's kinsmen 
and kinswomen. Still fretting in secret over the want of any 
object on whom to lavish a mother's tenderness, she sought for 
friendship as a substitute, shutting her eyes to the fact that per- 
sons in her rank, as having no equals, can have no friends, in the 
true sense of the word. Nor, had such a thing been possible any- 
where, was France the country in which to find it. There disin- 
terestedness and integrity had long been banished from her own 
sex almost as completely as from the other; and most of those 
whom she took into favor made it their first object to render that 
favor profitable to themselves. If she professed in their society 
to forget for a few hours that she was queen, they never forgot it ; 
they never lost sight of the fact that she could confer places and 
pensions, and they often discarded moderation and decency in 
the extravagance of their solicitations ; while she frequently, with 
an overamiable facility, surrendering her own judgment to their 
importunities, not only granted their requests, but at times even 
adopted their prejudices, and yielded herself as an instrument to 
gratify their antipathies or resentments. 

And the same feeling of vacancy in her heart, of which she was 
ever painfully conscious, produced in her also a constant restless- 



102 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

ness, and a craving for excitement which exhibited itself in an in- 
satiable appetite for amusement (as she confessed to her mother), 
and led her to seek distraction even in pastimes for vphich natu- 
rally she had but little inclination. In these respects it can not 
be said that, during the first years of her reign, she vs^as as uni- 
formly prudent as she had been while dauphiness. The restraint 
in which she had lived for those four years had not been unwhole- 
some for one so young ; but it had no doubt been irksome to her. 
And the feeling of complete liberty and independence which had 
succeeded it had, by a sort of natural reaction, sharpened the 
energy with which she now pursued her various diversions. It 
is possible, too, that the zest with which she indulged herself 
may have derived additional keenness from the knowledge that 
her ill-wishers found in it pretext for misconstruction and cal- 
umny ; and that, being conscious of entire purity in thought, 
word, and deed, she looked on it as due to her own character to 
show that she set all such detraction and detractors at defiance. 
To all cavilers, as also to her mother, whose uneasiness was fre- 
quently aroused by gossip which reached Vienna from Paris, her 
invariable reply was that her way of life had the king her hus- 
band's entire approbation. And while he felt a conjugal satis- 
faction in the contemplation of his queen's attractions and graces, 
the qualities in which, as he was well aware, he himself was most 
deficient, Louis might well also cherish the most absolute reliance 
on her unswerving rectitude, knowing the pride with which she 
was wont to refer to her mother's example, and to boast that the 
lesson which, above all others, she had learned from it was that to 
princes of her birth and rank wickedness and baseness were un- 
pardonable. 

Indeed, many of the amusements Louis not only approved, but 
shared with her, while she associated herself with those in which 
he delighted, as far as she could, joining his hunting parties twice 
a week, either on horseback or in her carriage, and at all times ex- 
hibiting a pattern of domestic union of which the whole previous 
history of the nation afforded no similar example. The citizens 
of Paris could hardly believe their eyes when they saw their king 
and queen walk arm-in-arm along the boulevards ; and the court- 
iers received a lesson, if they had been disposed to profit by it, 
when on each Sunday morning they saw the royal pair repair to 
the parish church for divine service, the day being closed by their 
public supper in the queen's apartment. 



COURT SUPPER PARTIES. 103 

And this appearance of domestic felicity was augmented by the 
introduction of what may be called private parties, with which, at 
the queen's instigation, Louis consented to vary the cold formality 
of the ordinary entertainments of the court. In the autumn they 
followed the example of Louis XV. by exchanging for a few 
weeks the grandeur of Versailles for the comparative quiet of 
some of their smaller palaces ; and, while they were at Choisy, 
they issued invitations once or twice a week to several of the Pa- 
risian ladies to come out and spend the day at the palace, when, 
as the principal officers of the household were not on duty, they 
themselves did the honors to their guests, the queen conversing 
with every one with her habitual graciousness, while the king also 
threw o£E his ordinary reserve, and seemed to enter into the pleas- 
ures of the day with a gayety and cordiality which surprised the 
party, and which, from the contrast that it presented to his man- 
ner when he was by himself, was very generally attributed to the 
influence of the queen's example. 

And these quiet festivities were so much to his taste that after- 
ward, when the court moved to Fontainebleau, and when they set- 
tled at Versailles for the winter, he cheerfully agreed to a pro- 
posal of Marie Antoinette to have a weekly supper party ; adopt- 
ing also another suggestion of hers which was indispensable to 
render such reunions agreeable, or even, it may be said, practica- 
ble. At her request he abolished the ridiculous rule which, under 
the last two kings, had forbidden gentlemen to be admitted to sit 
at table with any princess of the royal family. But natural as the 
idea seemed, it was not carried out without opposition on the part 
of Madame Adelaide and her sisters, who remonstrated against it 
as an infraction of all the old observances of the court, till it be- 
came a contest for superiority between the queen and themselves. 
Marie Antoinette took counsel with Mercy, and, by his advice, 
pointed out to her husband that to abandon the plan after it had 
been announced, in submission to an opposition which the prin- 
cesses had no right to make, would be to humiliate her in the eyes 
of the whole court. Loiiis had not yet shaken off all fear of his 
aunts ; but they were luckily absent, so he yielded to the influence 
which was nearest. The suppers took place. He and the queen 
themselves made out the lists of the guests to be invited, the men 
being named by him, and the ladies being selected by the queen. 
They were a great success ; and, as the history of the affair be- 
came known, the court and the Parisians generally rejoiced in the 



104 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

queen's triumph, and were grateful to her for this as for every 
other innovation which had a tendency to break down the haugh- 
ty barrier which, during the last two I'eigns, had been established 
between the sovereign and his subjects. Nor were these pleasant 
informal parties the only instances in which great inroads were 
made on the old etiquette. The Comte de Mirabeau, a man fatal- 
ly connected in subsequent years with some of the most terrible 
of the insults which were offered to the royal family, about this 
time described etiquette as a system invented for the express pur- 
pose of blunting the capacity of the French princes, and fixing 
them in a position of complete dependence. And Marie Antoi- 
nette seems to have regarded it with similar eyes ; her dislike of 
it being quickened by the expectations which its partisans and 
champions entertained that her every movement was to be regu- 
lated by it. And its requirements were sufficiently burdensome 
to tax a far better-trained patience than was natural to one who 
though a queen, was not yet nineteen. Not only was no guest of 
the male sex, except the king, allowed to sit at table with her, but 
no man-servant, no male officer of her household, might be present 
when the king and she dined together, as indeed usually happen- 
ed ; even his presence could not sanction the introduction of any 
other man. The lady of honor, on her knees, though in full dress, 
presented him the napkin to wipe his fingers, and filled his glass ; 
ladies in waiting in the same grand attire changed the plates of 
the royal pair ; and after dinner, as indeed throughout the day, 
the queen could not quit one room in the palace for another, un- 
less some of her ladies were at hand in complete court dress to 
attend upon her.* These usages, which were in reality so many 
chains to restrain all freedom, and to render comfort impossible, 
were abolished in the first few months of the new reign ; but, lit- 
tle as was the foundation which they had in common sense, and 
equally little as was the addition which they made to the royal 
dignity, it is certain that many of the courtiers, besides Madame 
de Noailles, were greatly disconcerted at their extinction. They 
regarded the queen's orders on the subject as a proof of a settled 
preference for Austrian over French fashions. They began to 
speak of her as " the Austrian," a name Avhich, though Madame 
Adelaide had more than once chosen it to describe her during the 
first year of her marriage, had since that time been almost forgot- 

* Madame de Campan, ch. iv. 



USAGES OF THE AUSTRIAN COURT. 105 

ten, but which was now revived, and was continually reproduced 
by a certain party to cast odium on many of her most simple 
tastes and most innocent actions. Her enemies even affirmed that 
in private she was wont to call the Trianon her " little Vienna,"* 
as if the garden, which she was laying out with a taste that long- 
made it the admiration of all the visitors to Versailles, were dear 
to her, not as affording a healthful and becoming occupation, nor 
for the sake of the giver, but only because it recalled to her mem- 
ory the gardens of Schonbrunn, to which, as their malice suggest- 
ed, she never ceased to look back with unpatriotic regret. 

In one point of view they were unquestionably correct. The 
queen did undoubtedly desire to establish in the French court 
the customs and the feelings which, during her childhood, had 
prevailed at Vienna; but they were wholly wrong in thinking 
them Austrian usages. They were Lorrainese in their origin; 
they had been imported to Vienna for the first time by her own 
father, the Emperor Francis ; when she referred to them, it was 
as " the patriarchal manners of the House of Lorraine "f that she 
spoke of them ; and her preference for them was founded on the 
conviction that it was to them that her mother and her mother's 
family were indebted for the love and reverence of the people 
which all the trials and distresses of the struggle against Frederic 
had never been able to impair. 

Nor was it only the old stiffness and formality, which had been 
compatible with the grossest license, that was now discounte- 
nanced. A wholly new spirit was introduced to animate the con- 
versation with which these royal entertainments were enlivened. 
Under Louis XV., and indeed before his reign, intrigue and faction 
had been the real rulers of the court, spiteful detraction and scan- 
dal had been its sole language. But, to the dispositions, as be- 
nevolent as they were pure, of the young queen and her husband, 
malice and calumny were almost as hateful as profligacy itself. 
She held, with the great English dramatist, her contemporary, that 
true wit was nearly allied to good-nature ^X and she showed her- 
self more decided in nothing than in discouraging and checking 
every tendency to disparagement of the absent, and diffusing a 
tone of friendly kindness over society. On one occasion, when 



* Madame de Campan, eh. v., p. 106. f Id., p. 101. 

\ "<§»• Peter. Ah, madam, true wit is more nearly allied to good - nature 
than your ladyship is aware of." — School for Sca7idal, act ii., sc. 2. 



106 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

she heard some of her ladies laughing over a spiteful story, she 
reproved them plainly for their mirth as "bad taste." On an- 
other she asked some who were thus amusing themselves, " How 
they would like any one to speak thus of themselves in their ab- 
sence, and before her ?" and her precept, fortified by example (for 
no unkind comment on any one was ever heard to pass her lips), 
so effectually extinguished the habit of detraction that in a very 
short time it was remarked that no courtier ventured on an ill- 
natured word in her presence, and that even the Comte de Pro- 
vence, who especially aimed at the reputation of a sayer of good 
things, and affected a character for cynical sharpness, learned at 
last to restrain his sarcastic tongue, and at least to pretend a dis- 
position to look at people's characters and actions with as much 
indulgence as herself. 



INSUFFICIENT MONET ALLOWANCE. 107 



CHAPTER X. 

Settlement of the Queen's Allowance. — Character and Views of Turgot. — 
She induces Gluck to visit Paris. — Performance of his Opera of " Iphigenie 
en Aulide." — The First Encore. — Marie Antoinette advocates the Re-estab- 
lishment of the Parliaments, and receives an Address from them. — English 
Visitors at the Court. — The King is compared to Louis XII. and Henri IV. 
— The Archduke Maximilian visits his Sister. — Factious Conduct of the 
Princes of the Blood. — Anti - Austrian Feeling in Paris. — The War of 
Grains. — The King is crowned at Rheims. — Feelings of Marie Antoinette. 
— Her Improvements at the Trianon. — Her Garden Parties there. — De- 
scription of her Beauty by Burke, and by Horace Walpole. 

Maria Teresa had warned her daughter against extravagance, 
a warning which would have been regarded as wholly misplaced 
by any other of the French princes, who were accustomed to treat 
the national treasury as a fund intended to supply the means for 
their utmost profusion, but which certainly coincided with the 
views of Marie Antoinette herself, who, as we have seen, vindi- 
cated herself from the charge of prodigality, and declared that she 
took great care that her improvements at the Trianon should not 
be beyond her means. Yet it would not have been surprising if 
they had been found to be so, since, even after she became queen, 
her income continued to be far too narrow for her rank. The 
nominal allowance of all former kings and queens had been fixed 
at an unreasonably low rate, from the pernicious custom of draw- 
ing on the treasury for all deficiencies ; but this mode of pro- 
ceeding was inconsistent with the notions of propriety entertain- 
ed by the new sovereigns, and with those of the new finance min- 
ister, 

Maurepas himself had never been distinguished for ability, but 
he was sufiiciently clear-sighted to be aware that the principal 
difiiculties of the State arose from the disorder into which the 
profligacy and prodigality of the late reign, ever since the death 
of the wise Fleury, had thrown its finances ; and he had made a 
most happy choice for the office of comptroller-general of finance, 
appointing to it a man named Turgot, who, as Intendant of the 
Limousin, had brought that province into a condition of prosper- 



108 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

ity whicli had made it a model for the rest of the kingdom. In 
his new and more enlarged sphere of action, Turgot's abilities ex- 
panded ; or, perhaps it should rather be said, had a fairer field 
for their display. He showed himself equally capable in every 
department of his duties ; as a financial reformer, as an adminis- 
trator, and as a legislator. No minister in the history of the na- 
tion had ever so united large-minded genius with disinterested in- 
tegrity. He had not accepted ofiice without a full pei'ception of 
its difficulties. He saw all that had to be done, and applied him- 
self to putting the finances of the nation on a healthy footing, as 
an indispensable preface to other reforms equally necessary. He 
easily secured the co-operation of the king and queen, Louis 
cheerfully adopting the retrenchments which he recommended, 
though some of them, such as the reduction in the hunting estab- 
lishment, touched his personal tastes. But at the same time, as 
there was no illiberality in his economy, or, rather, as he saw that 
real economy could only be practiced if the sovereigns had a fix- 
ed income really adequate to the call upon it, he placed their al- 
lowances on a more satisfactory footing than had ever been fixed 
for them before, the queen's privy purse being settled at a sum 
which Mercy agreed with him would prove sufficient for all her 
expenses, though it was but 200,000 francs a year. 

And so it was generally found to be ; for, with the exception 
of an occasional fancy for some splendid jewel, Marie Antoinette 
had no expensive tastes. Her economy was even far greater than 
her attendants approved, extending to details which they would 
have wished her to regard as beneath the dignity of a sovereign ;* 
and so judiciously did she manage her resources that she was 
able to defray out of her privy purse the pensions which she oc- 
casionally conferred on men eminent in arts or literature, whom 
she rightly judged it a royal duty to encourage. 

One of her first acts of liberality of this kind was exercised in 
favor of a countryman of her own, the celebrated Gluck. Music 
was one of her most favorite accomplishments. She still devoted 
a portion of almost every day in taking lessons on the harp ; but 
the French music was not to her taste ; while, since the death of 
Handel, Gluck's superiority to all his other musical contempora- 

* " EUe avait entierement le defaut contraire \k la prodigalite], et je pou- 
vais prouver qu'elle portait souvent I'economie jusqu'a des details d'une me- 
squinerie blamable, surtout dans une souveraine." — Madame de Campan, ch. 
v., p. 106, ed. 1858. 



SCENE AT THE OPERA. 109 

ries had been generally acknowledged in all countries. She now, 
by the gift of a pension of 6000 francs, induced bim to visit 
Paris. It was at the French opera that many of his most cele- 
brated works were first given to the world ; and an incident which 
took place at the performance of one of them showed that, if the 
frequenters of Versailles were dissatisfied at the inroads lately 
made on the old etiquette, the queen had a compensation in the 
warm attachment with which she had inspired the Parisians. In- 
stead of conveying the performers to Versailles, as had been the 
extravagant practice of the late reign, Louis and Marie Antoinette 
went into Paris when they desired to visit the theatre. The citi- 
zens, delighted at the contrast which their frequent visits to the 
capital afforded to the marked dislike of it shown by the late 
king, crowded the theatre on every night on which they were ex- 
pected ; and on one of these occasions Gluck's " Iphigenie " was 
the opera selected for performance. It contains a chorus in 
which, according to the design of the dramatist, Achilles was di- 
rected to turn to his followers with the words 

" Chantez, celebrez votre reine." 

But the French opera-singers were a courtly race. The French 
opera had been established a century before as a Royal Academy 
of Music by Louis XIV., who had issued letters patent which de- 
clared the profession of an opera-singer one that might be follow- 
ed even by a nobleman ; and it seemed, therefore, quite consistent 
with the rank thus confeiTed on them that they should take the 
lead in paying loyal compliments to their princes. Accordingly, 
when the performer who represented the invincible son of Thetis, 
the popular tenor singer, Le Gros, came to the chorus in question, 
he was found to have prepared a slight change in his part. He 
did not address himself to the myrmidons behind him, but he 
came forward, and, with a bow to the boxes and pit, substituted 
the following, 

" Chautons, celebrons notre reine, 
L'hymen, que sous ses lois I'enchaine, 
Va nous rendre h, jamais heureux." 

The audience was taken by surprise, but it was a surprise of de- 
light. The whole house rose to its feet, cheering and clapping 
their hands. For the first time in theatrical history, the repetition 
of a song was demanded. The now familiar term of " Encore !" 
was heard and obeyed. The queen herself was affected to tears 



110 LIFE OP MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

by the enthusiastic affection displayed toward her, nor at such a 
moment did she suffer her feeling of the evanescent character of 
popularity among so light-minded a people to dwell in her mind, 
or to mar the pleasure which such a reception was well calculated 
to impart. 

Popularity at this moment seemed doubly valuable to her, be- 
cause she was not ignorant that the feeling of disappointment at 
the unproductiveness of her marriage had recently been increased 
by the knowledge that the young Countess d'Artois was about to 
become a mother. And the attachment which she inspired was 
not confined to the play-goers ; it was shared by a body so little in- 
clined to exhibitions of impulsive loyalty as the Parliament. It 
has been seen that Louis XV. had abolished that body ; but one 
of the first proposals made by Maurepas to the new king had had 
its re - establishment for its object. The question had been dis- 
cussed in the king's council, and also in the royal family, with 
great eagerness. The ablest of the ministers protested against 
the restoration of an assembly which had invariably shown itself 
turbulent and usurping, and the king himself was generally under- 
stood to share their views. But Marie Antoinette, led by the ad- 
vice of Choiseul, was eager in her support of Maurepas, and it was 
believed that her influence decided Louis. If it was so, it was 
an exertion of her power that she had ample cause to repent at a 
subsequent period; but at the time she thought of nothing but 
showing her sense of the general superiority of Choiseul, and so 
requiting some of the obligations under which she considered that 
she lay to him for arranging her marriage ; and she received a 
deputation from the re-established Parliament with marked pleas- 
ure, and replied to their address with a graciousness which seem- 
ed intended to show that she sincerely rejoiced at the event which 
had given cause for it. 

It was not till Christmas that the royal family went out of 
mourning ; but, as soon as it was left off, the court returned to 
its accustomed gayety — balls, concerts, and private theatricals oc- 
cupying the evenings ; though the people remarked with undis- 
guised satisfaction that the expenses of former years had been 
greatly retrenched. It was also noticed that many foreigners of 
distinction, and especially some English ladies of high rank, glad- 
ly accepted invitations to the balls, which they certainly would 
not have done while their presence was likely to bring them into 
contact with Madame du Barri. Lady Ailesbury is especially 



VISIT OF THE ARCHDUKE MAXIMILIAN. HI 

mentioned as having been received with marked distinction by 
the queen, and also by the king, who was careful to show his ap- 
proval of her entertainments by the share which he took in them ; 
and, as he paraded the saloons arm-in-arm with her, to distinguish 
those whom she noticed, so that, to quote the words of one of the 
most lively chroniclers of the day, their example seemed to be 
fast bringing conjugal love and fidelity into fashion. She even 
persuaded him to depart still further from his usual reserve, so as 
to appear in costume at more than one fancy ball ; the dress 
which he chose being that of the only predecessor of his own 
house whom he could in any point have desired to resemble, Hen- 
ry IV. He had already been indirectly compared to that mon- 
arch, the first Bourbon king, by the ingenious flattery of a print- 
seller. In the long list of sovereigns who had reigned over France 
in the five hundred years which had passed by since the warrior- 
saint of the Crusades had laid down his life on the sands of 
Tunis, there had been but two to whom their countrymen could 
look back with affection or respect — Louis XII., to whom his 
subjects had given the title of The Good, and Henry, to whom 
more than one memorial still preserved the surname of The Great. 
And the courtly picture-dealer, eager to make his market of the 
gratitude with which his fellow-citizens greeted the reforms with 
which the reigning sovereign had already inaugurated his reign, 
contrived to extract a compliment to him even out of the severe 
prose of the multiplication-table ; publishing a joint portrait of 
the three kings, Louis XII., Henry IV., and Louis XVI., with an 
inscription beneath to testify that 12 and 4 made 16. 

In the spring of 1775, Marie Antoinette received a great pleas- 
ure in a visit from her younger brother, Maximilian. He was 
the only member of her family whom she had seen in the five 
years that had elapsed since she left Vienna. But, eagerly as 
she had looked forward to his visit, it did not bring her unmixed 
satisfaction, being marred by the ill -breeding of the princes of 
the blood, and still more by the approval of their conduct dis- 
played by the citizens of Paris, which seemed to afford a con- 
vincing evidence of the small effect which even the queen's virt- 
ues and graces had produced in softening the old national feeling 
of enmity to the house of Austria. The archduke, who was still 
but a youth, did not assert his royal rank while on his travels, but 
preserved such an incognito as princes on such occasions are wont 
to assume, and took the title of Count de Burgau. The king's 



112 LIFE OP MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

brothers, however, like the king himself, paid no regard to his dis- 
guise, but visited him at the first instant of his arrival ; but the 
princes of the blood stood on their dignity, refused to acknovi^l- 
edge a rank which was not publicly avowed, or to recollect that 
the visitor was a foreigner and brother to their queen, and insisted 
on receiving the attention of the first visit from him. The ex- 
citement which the question caused in the palace, and the queen's 
indignation at the slight thus ofEered, as she conceived, to her 
brother, were great. High words passed between her and the 
Due d'Orleans, the chief of the recusants, on the subject; and 
one part of her remonstrance throws a curious additional light on 
the strange distance which, as has been already pointed out, the 
etiquette of the French court had established between the sover- 
eigns and the very highest of their subjects, even the nearest of 
their relations. The duke had insisted on the incognito as debar- 
ring Maximilian from all claim to attention from a prince like 
himself whose rank was not concealed. She urged that the king 
and his brothers had not regarded it in that light. " The duke 
knew," she said, "that the king had treated Maximilian as a 
brother ; that he even invited him to sup in pi-ivate with himself 
and her, an honor to which no prince of the blood had ever pre- 
tended." And, finally, warming with her subject, she told him 
that, though her brother would be sorry not to make the acquaint- 
ance of the princes of the blood, he had many other things in 
Paris to see, and would manage to do without it."* Her ex- 
postulation was fruitless. The princes adhered to their resolution, 
and she to hers. They were not admitted to any of the festivi- 
ties of the palace during the archduke's stay, and were even ex- 
cluded from all the private entertainments which were given in 
his honor, since she made it known that the king and she would 
refuse to attend any to which they were invited. But, though 
their conduct was surely both discourteous to a foreigner and 
disrespectful to their sovereign, the Parisian populace took their 
part ; and some of them who showed themselves ostentatiously 
in the streets of the city on days on which there Avere parties at 
Versailles were loudly applauded by a crowd which was not en- 
tirely drawn from the lower classes. It was noticed that the Due 
de Chartres, the son of the Due d'Orleans, was one of the fore- 
most in exciting this anti-Austrian feeling, the outbreak of which 

* Arneth, ii., p. 307. 



ENERGY OF TUROOT. 113 

was especially remarkable as the first instance in wliicli tlie en- 
thusiasm of the citizens for Marie Antoinette seemed to have 
cooled, or at least to have been interrupted. And this change in 
their feelings produced so painful an impression on her mind, 
that, after her brother's departure, she abandoned her intention of 
going to the opera, though Gluck's " Orfeo " was to be perform- 
ed, lest she should meet with a reception less cordial than that to 
which she had hitherto been accustomed. 

This ebullition against the house of Austria, however, was at 
the moment dictated rather by discontent with the Home Gov- 
ernment than by any settled feeling on the subject of foreign 
politics. Corn had been at a rather high price in Paris and its 
neighborhood throughout the winter ; and the deai-ness was taken 
advantage of by the enemies of Turgot, and employed by them 
as an argument to prove the impolicy of his measures to intro- 
duce freedom of trade. They even organized* formidable riots 
at Paris and Versailles, which, however, Turgot, whose resolution 
was equal to his capacity, prevailed on the king to repress by acts 
of vigor very unusual to him, and very foreign to his disposition. 
The troops were called out ; the Parliament was summoned to a 
Bed of Justice, and enjoined to put the law in force against the 
guilty ; two of the most violent rioters were executed ; order was 
restored, and the wholly factitious character of the outbreak was 
proved by the tranquillity which ensued, though the price of bread 
remained unaltered till the commencement of the harvest, the cit- 
izens themselves presently making a jest of their sedition, and 
nicknaming it The War of the Grains, f 

In France, one excitement soon drives out another, and the 
whole attention of the nation was now fixed on the coronation, 
which had been appointed to take place in June. After some 
discussion, it had been settled that Louis should be crowned 
alone. There had not been many precedents for the coronation 
of a queen in France ; and the last instance, that of Marie de 
Medicis, as having been followed by the assassination of her hus- 

* See the author's " History of France under the Bourbons," iii., p. 418. La- 
cretelle, iv., p. 368, affirms that this outbreak, for which in his eyes " une pre- 
tendue disette" was only a pretext, was "evidemment fomente par des 
hommes puissans," and that " un salaire qui etait paye par des hommes qu'on 
ne pouvait nommer aujourd'hui avec assez de certitude, excitait leurs fureurs 
factices." 

\ La Guerre des Farines. 

8 



114 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

band, was regarded by many as a bad omen. If Marie Antoinette 
had herself expressed any wish to be her husband's partner in the 
solemnity, it would certainly have been complied with, and their 
subsequent fate would have been regarded as a confirmation of 
the evil augury. But she was indifferent on the subject, and 
quite contented to behold it as a spectator. It took place on 
Sunday, the 11th of June, in the grand Cathedral at Rheims. 
The progress of the royal family, which had quit Versailles for 
that city on the preceding Monday, had resembled a triumph- 
ant procession, so enthusiastic had been the acclamations which 
had greeted the king and queen at each town through which they 
had passed; and all the previous displays of joy were outdone 
by the demonstrations afforded by the citizens of Eheims itself. 
It was midnight, on the 8th of June, when the queen reached the 
gates ; but the road outside and the streets inside were thronged 
with a crowd as dense as midday could have produced, which 
followed her to the archbishop's palace, making the whole city 
resound with their loyal cheers ; and which, the next morning, 
awaited her coming-forth after holding a grand reception of all 
the nobles of the province, to meet the king when he made his 
solemn entry in the afternoon. The ceremony in the cathedral 
was one of great magnificence ; but, in the account of the day 
which, after her return to Versailles, she wrote to her mother, 
she does not enter into details, as being necessarily known to the 
empress in their general character ; confining herself rather to a 
description of the impression which the manifest cordiality with 
which the whole people had entered into the spirit of the solem- 
nity had made upon her own mind and heart.* 

" The coronation was perfect in every respect. It was made 
plain that every one was highly delighted with the king, and so 
he deserves that all his subjects should be. Great and small, all 
displayed the greatest interest in him ; and at the moment of 
placing the crown on his head the ceremonies of the church were 
interrupted by the most touching acclamations. I could not re- 
strain myself ; my tears flowed in spite of all my efforts, and the 
people were pleased to see them. During the whole time of our 
journey I did my best to correspond to the earnestness of the 
people ; and although the heat was great, and the crowd im- 
mense, I do not regret my fatigue, which, moreover, has not in- 

* Arneth, ii., p. 342. 



MARIE ANTOINETTE AT THE TRIANON. 115 

jured my health. It is a very astonishing circumstance, but at 
the same time a very pleasant one, to be so well received only 
two months after the revolt, and in spite of the high price of 
bread, which unhappily still continues. It is a strange peculiar- 
ity in the French character to allow themselves to be so easily led 
away by mischievous suggestions, and then immediately to return 
to good behavior. It is very certain that when we see people, 
even in times of distress, treating us so well, we are the more 
bound to labor for their happiness. The king seems to me pene- 
trated with this truth. As for me, I feel that all my life, even if I 
were to live a hundred years, I shall never forget the coronation 
day." 

But all the tumultuous pomp and exultation only made her re- 
turn with renewed pleasure to her quiet retreat of the Trianon, 
which, with the assistance of the illustrious Buffon, then superin- 
tendent of the king's gardens, and of Bernard de Jussieu, Director 
of the Jardin des Plantes, and celebrated as one of the first bota- 
nists of Europe, she was laying out with a delicate taste that long 
rendered it one of the chief attractions to all the inhabitants of 
the district. For the sentiment which she expressed in the let- 
ter to the empress, which has just been quoted, was not the mere 
formal utterance of a barren philanthropy, but was dictated and 
carried out by an active benevolence. She felt in her inmost 
heart the duty which she there professed, of exerting herself to 
promote the happiness of the people, and was far too unselfish to 
desire to keep to herself the whole of the delight her gardens 
were calculated to afford. The Trianon was a possession exactly 
calculated to gratify her taste for innocent rural pleasure. As 
she said herself, at Versailles she was a queen ; here she was a 
plain country lady, superintending not only her flowers, but her 
farm-yard and her dairy, taking pride in her stock and her prod- 
uce. She would invite the king and the rest of the royal fami- 
ly to garden parties, where, at a table set out under a bower of 
honeysuckle, she would pour out their coffee with her own hands,, 
boasting of the thickness of her cream, the freshness of her eggs, 
the ruddiness and flavor of her strawberries, as so many proofs of 
her skill in managing her establishment ; and would not fear to 
shock her aunts by tempting one of her sisters-in-law to a game 
at ball, or battledoor and shuttlecock. But she probably enjoyed 
still more the power of gratifying the inhabitants of Versailles 
and the neighborhood. The moment that her improvements 



116 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

were completed, she opened the gardens to the public to walk in, 
and gave out-of-door parties and children's dances, to which all 
the inhabitants of Versailles who presented themselves in decent 
apparel were admitted. She would even open the dance herself 
with some well-conducted boy, and afterward stroll among the 
crowd, talking affably to all the company, even to the governesses 
and nurses, and delighting the parents with the interest which 
she exhibited in the characters, the growth, and even the names 
of the children. 

There were some who, startled at the unwonted sight of a 
sovereign so treating her subjects as fellow-creatures, confessed a 
fear that such familiarity was not without its dangers ;* but the 
objects of her condescension worshiped her for it ; and for a time 
at least the great majority of the nation forgot that she was Aus- 
trian. She was now nearly twenty years of age. Her form had 
developed into a rare perfection of elegance. Her features had 
added to the original brilliancy of her girlish loveliness something 
of that higher beauty which judgment and sagacity inspire, and 
which dignity renders only the more imposing; while the same 
benevolence and purity beamed in every look which were remark- 
ed as her most sterling characteristics on her first arrival in the 
country. And it is not to her French or German admirers alone 
that we are reduced to trust for the impression which at this 
time she made on all beholders. We have seen that English gen- 
tlemen and ladies of rank were fi'equent visitors to the French 
court ; and from two of these, men of widely different characters, 
talents, and turns of mind, we have a striking concurrence of tes- 
timony as to the power of the fascination which she exerted on 
all who came within the sphere of her influence. Burke was the 
earlier visitor. Indeed, it was in the last months of the preceding 
reign, while she was still dauphiness, that she had excited in his 
enthusiastic imagination those emotions which he afterward de- 
scribed in words which will live as long as the English language. 
It was in the spring of 1774 that it seemed to him that " surely 
never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a 
more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, dec- 
orating and cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move 
in — glittering like the morning -star, full of life, and splendor, 
and joy." No one could be less like Burke than Horace Wal- 

* "Souvenirs de Vaublanc," i., p. 231. 



BEAUTY OF THE QUEEN. \\1 

pole, a cynical observer, who piqued himself on indifference, and 
especially on a superiority to the vulgar belief in the merits and 
attractions of kings and princes. Yet his report of the charms 
of Marie Antoinette, as he saw them in the autumn of this year, 
1775, reveals an admiration of them as vivid as that of the warm- 
hearted and more poetical Irishman. He saw her, as he reports 
to Lady Ossory, first at a state court ball,* given on the occasion 
of the marriage of the Princess Clotilde, in the theatre of the pal- 
ace ; and he would have desired to give his correspondent some 
description of the beauty of the building ; " the bravest in the 
universe, and yet one in which taste predominates over expense ;" 
but he was absorbed by the still more powerful attractions of the 
princess whom he had seen in it : *' What I have to say I can 
tell your ladyship in a word, for it was impossible to see any 
thing but the queen, Hebes, and Floras, and Helens, and Graces 
are street-walkers to her. She is a statue and beauty when stand- 
ing or sitting ; grace itself when she moves." As he is writing 
to a lady, he proceeds to describe her dress, which to ladies of the 
present day may still have its interest : " She was dressed in sil- 
ver, scattered over with laurier roses ; few diamonds ; and feath- 
ers, much lower than the monument." He proceeds to describe 
the ball itself, and some of the company, which was, however, very 
select ; but at every sentence or two he comes back to the queen, 
so deep and so real was the impression which she had made on 
him. " Monsieur is very handsome. The Comte d'Artois is a 
better figure and a better dancer. Their characters approach to 
those of two other royal dukes.f There were but eight minuets, 
and, except the queen and princesses, only eight lady dancers ; I 
was not so much struck with the dancing as I expected. For 
beauty I saw none, or the queen effaced all the rest. After the 
minuets were French country - dances, much incumbered by the 
long trains, longer tresses, and hoops. In the intervals of dan- 
cing, baskets of peaches, china oranges (a little out of season), 
biscuits, ices, and wine-and-water were presented to the royal fam- 
ily and dancers. The ball lasted just two hours. The monarch 
did not dance, but for the first two rounds of the minuet even the 
queen does not turn her back to him. Yet her behavior is as 
easy as divine." 

* August 23d, 1775, No. 1524, in Cunningham's edition, vol. vi., p. 245. 
f The Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, who were just at this time 
astonishing London with their riotous living. 



118 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

Such was a French court ball on days of most special ceremony, 
a somewhat solemn affair, which required graciousness such as 
that of Marie Antoinette to make admission to every one a very 
enviable privilege ; even though its stiffness had been in some de- 
gree relieved by a new regulation of the queen, that the invita- 
tions, which had hitherto been confined to matrons, should be ex- 
tended to unmarried girls. Scarcely any change produced great- 
er consternation among the admirers of old customs. The dow- 
agers searched all the registers of those who had been admitted 
to the court balls since the beginning of the century to fortify 
their objections. But, to their dismay, some of the early festiv- 
ities in the time of Marie Leczinska proved to have been shared 
by one or two noble maidens. The discovery was of little im- 
portance, since Marie Antoinette had shown that she was not 
afraid of making precedents. But still it in some degree silenced 
the grumblers, and for the rest of the reign no one contested the 
. queen's right to decide who should, and who should not, be ad- 
mitted to her society. 



HORSE-EACINO OF COUNT D'ABTOIS. 119 



CHAPTER XL 

Tea is introduced. — Horse-racing of Count d'Artois. — Marie Antoinette goes 
to see it. — The Queen's Submissiveness to the Reproofs of the Empress. — 
Birth of the Due d'Angouleme. — She at times speaks lightly of the King. — 
The Emperor remonstrates with her. — Character of some of the Queen's 
Friends. — The Princess de Lamballe. — The Countess Jules de Polignac. — 
They set the Queen against Turgot. — She procures his Dismissal. — She 
gratifies Madame Polignac's Friends. — Her Regard for the French Peo- 
ple. — Water Parties on the Seine. — Her Health is Delicate. — Gambling at 
the Palace. 

Nor were these the only innovations whicli marked the age. A 
rage for adopting English fashions — Anglomanie, as it was called 
— began to prevail ; and, among the different modes in which it 
exhibited itself, it is especially noticed that tea* was now intro- 
duced, and began to share with coflfee the privileges of affording 
sober refreshment to those who aspired in their different ways to 
give the tone to French society. 

A less innocent novelty was a passion for horse-racing, in which 
the Comte d'Artois and the Due de Chartres set the example of 
indulging, establishing a race -course in the Bois de Boulogne. 
The count had but little difficulty in persuading the queen to at- 
tend it, and she soon showed so decided a fancy for the sport, and 
became so regular a visitor of it, that a small stand was built for 
her, which in subsequent years provoked some unfavorable com- 
ments, when the princess obtained her leave to give luncheon in it 
to some of their racing friends, who were not in all instances of a 
character deserving to be brought into a royal presence. 

She pursued this, as she pursued every other amusement which 
she took up, with great keenness for a while, so much so as to 
provoke earnest remonstrances from her mother, whose letters 
were commonly dictated by Mercy's reports and suggestions. 
Nor, if she felt uneasiness, did Maria Teresa spare her daughter, 
or take any great care to moderate her language of reproof. At 
times her tone is so severe as to excite a feeling of wonder at the 

* " Gustave III. et la Cour de France," i., p. 279. 



120 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

submissiveness with which her letters were received. No express 
eulogy of her admirers could give so great an idea of Marie An- 
toinette's amiability, good-nature, genuine modesty, and sincere af- 
fection for her mother, as the ingenuousness with which she ad- 
mits errors, or the temper with which she urges excuses. To that 
venerated parent she is just as patient of admonition, now that 
she is seated on a throne, as she could have been in her school- 
room at Schonbrunn ; and, in reply to the scoldings (no milder 
word can do justice to the earnest vehemence of the letters which 
at this time she received from Vienna), she pleads not only that 
an appetite for amusement is natural to her age, but that she en- 
ters into none of which the king does not fully approve, and none 
which are ever allowed to interfere with her giving him full 
enjoyment of her society whenever he has leisure or inclination 
for it. 

But her replies to her mother hint also at the continuance of 
the old causes for her restlessness, and for her eager pursuit of 
new diversions to distract her thoughts. Her natural desire for 
children of her own was greatly increased when, on the 12th of 
August, her sister-in-law, the Countess d'Artois, presented her hus- 
band with a son.* She treated the young mother with a sisterly 
kindness suited to the occasion, which extorted the unqualified 
praise of Mercy himself ; but she could not restrain her feelings 
on the subject to her mother, and she expressed to her frankly 
the extreme pain " which she suffered at thus seeing an heir to 
the throne who was not her own child." Nor is it strange that 
at such moments she should feel hurt at the coldness with which 
her husband continued to behave toward her, or that she should 
run eagerly after any excitement which might aid in diverting 
her mind from a comparison of her own position with that of her 
happier sister-in-law.f 

It would have been well if she had confined her expressions of 
disappointment to her mother. But since we may not disguise 
her occasional acts of imprudence, it must be confessed that at 
times her mortification led her to speak of her husband to stran- 
gers in a tone of disparagement which was highly unbecoming. 
Maximilian had been accompanied by the Count de Rosenburg, 



* The Due d'Angouleme, afterward dauphin, when the Count d'Artois suc- 
ceeded to the throne as Charles X. 

f Marie Antoinette to Maria Teresa, August 12th, 17V5, Arneth, ii., p. 866. 



UNOUARDEDNESS OF HER LANGUAGE. 121 

who liad in consequence been admitted to tlie intimate society 
of tlie court during the archduke's visit, and who had inspired 
Marie Antoinette with so favorable an opinion of his character 
and judgment that after his return to Vienna she more than once 
sent him an account of the proceedings at the palace since her 
brother's departure. She describes to him a series of concerts, at 
which she had sung herself with some of her ladies. She gives 
him a list of the guests, remarking, with a particularity which 
seems to show that she expects her words to be reported to the 
empress, that the gentlemen, though amiable and well bred, were 
not young. But she also complains that the king's tastes do not 
resemble hers, that he cares for nothing but hunting and mechan- 
ical employments ; and, indulging in an unwonted fit of sarcasm, 
she proceeds : " You will allow that I should not look well beside 
a forge. I could never become a Vulcan ; and the part of Venus 
would displease him more than my real tastes, which he does not 
disapprove." In another letter she mentions him in a tone of 
contemptuous pity, almost equally unbecoming, speaking of him 
as " the poor man " whom she had made a tool of to further some 
views of her own, though Mercy assured the empress that her as- 
sertion of having so treated him was a mere fiction of her im- 
agination, to impart a sort of lively tone to her letter ; that, in 
spite of occasional outbursts of levity, she had in reality the firm- 
est affection and esteem for Louis; and that nothing could be 
more irreproachable than her conduct toward him in every re- 
spect. He added that the people in general did her full justice 
on this head ; that if her popularity with the Parisians had for a 
moment suffered any diminution through the artifices of faction, 
the cloud had been blown away ; and that she had been recently 
received at the different theatres with as fervent a loyalty as had 
greeted even her first appearance. 

The empress, however, was so uneasy that she induced her 
son, the Emperor Joseph, to add his expostulations to hers ; and 
he, who was a prince of considerable shrewdness, as well as of a 
high idea of the proprieties of his rank, wrote her a long letter of 
remonstrance ; imputing with great truth the failings, which he 
pointed out with sufficient plainness, to a facility of disposition 
which made her indulgent to the manoeuvres of those whom she 
admitted to her friendship, but who did not deserve such an hon- 
or. He even spoke of the society which she had gathered round 
her, as calculated to prevent him from performing his promise of 



122 LIFE OP MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

paying her a visit ; " for what should he do in a court of frivo- 
lous intriguers?" And he concluded by urging her to prevent 
these false friends from making a tool of her for the gratification 
of their own selfishness and rapacity ; and to be solicitous for no 
friendship or confidence but that of her husband ; the study of 
whose wishes was to her not only a state duty, but the only one 
which would make her permanently happy, and secure to her 
the lasting affection of the people. 

There was, however, no subject on which Marie Antoinette was 
so little amenable to advice as the choice of her friends, and none 
on which she more required it. Above all the frequenters of the 
court, two ladies were distinguished by her especial favor — the 
Princess de Lamballe and the Countess de Polignac. The prin- 
cess, a daughter of the Prince de Carignan in Savoy, having been 
married to the son of the Due de Penthievre, was left a widow 
before she was twenty years of age. She had been originally rec- 
ommended to Marie Antoinette in the first year of her residence 
in France, partly by her royal birth, and partly by her misfort- 
unes ; and the attachment which the dauphiness at once con- 
ceived for her was cemented by the ardor with which it was re- 
turned. In many respects the princess well deserved the favor 
with which she was regarded. Her temper was sweet and ami- 
able ; her character singularly truthful and sincere ; and, that she 
might never be separated from her friend, the place of superin- 
tendent of the queen's household was revived for her. Some cav- 
ilers were disposed to grumble at the re-establishment of an ofiSce 
which had been suppressed as useless and costly ; but no one 
could allege that Madame de Lamballe abused the royal favor, 
and her share in the calamities of later days justified the queen's 
choice by the proof it afforded of the princess's unalterable fidel- 
ity and devotion. 

But the countess was a very different character. She had, in- 
deed, a well-bred air of good humor, but that, with her youth (she 
was but twenty years of age), was her only qualification ; for her 
capacity was narrow, her disposition selfish and grasping, and she 
was so inveterate a manoeuvrer, that, when she had no intrigues 
of her own on foot, she was always ready to lend herself to 
the plots of others. What was worse, she did not enjoy an un- 
tainted character. The name of the Comte de Vaudreuil was 
often coupled with hers in the scandals of the court. And the 
queen, since she could hardly be ignorant of the reports which 



FALL OF TUBGOT. 123 

were circulated, incurred, by the marked favor whicli she showed 
to the countess, the imputation of sliutting her eyes to the frail- 
ties of her friends, and thus showing that dissoluteness was not 
an insuperable barrier to her partiality. It was only the earnest 
remonstrance of Mercy which prevented her from conferring the 
place of lady of honor on the countess ; but she allowed her to 
exert a pernicious influence over her in many ways, for the count- 
ess was unwearied in soliciting appointments and pensions for 
her relatives ; at times making demands in such numbers, and of 
so exorbitant a character, that the queen herself was forced to ad- 
mit the impossibility of granting them all, though she still sought 
to gratify her to far too great an extent, and would not allow the 
proved insatiability of her and her family to open her eyes to her 
real character. 

It was, however, a far more mischievous submission to the in- 
fluence of the countess and her coterie, when she permitted them 
to prejudice her against Turgot, whom she had more than once 
described to her mother as an upright statesman, and who had 
constantly shown, so far as he could make compliance consistent 
with his duty to the State, a sincere desire to consult her wishes. 
But as the Polignac party saw in his prudence, integrity, and 
firmness the most formidable obstacle to their project of using the 
queen's favor to enrich themselves, she now yielded up her judg- 
ment to their calumnies. Forgetting her former praises of the 
minister's integrity, she began to disparage him as one whose 
measures caused general dissatisfaction, and at last she pushed her 
hostility to him so far that she actually tried to induce Louis not 
to be content with dismissing him from ofiice, but to send him 
as a prisoner to the Bastille.* That she could not avoid feeling 
some shame at the part which she had acted may be inferred 
from the pains which she took to conceal it from her mother, 
whom she assured that, though she was not sorry for his dismiss- 
al, she had in no degree interfered in the matter ; but " her con- 
duct and even her intentions were well known, and known to be 
far removed from all manoeuvres and intrigues."f 

* "Le projet de la reine etait d'exiger du roi que le Sieur Turgot fut 
chasse, meme envoye h la Bastille . . . . et il a fallu les representations les 
plus fortes et les plus instantes pour arreter les effets de la colere de la 
Reine." — Mercy to Maria Teresa, May 16th, 1776, Arneth, ii., p. 446. 

f The compiler of " Marie Antoinette, Louis XVI., et La Famille Royale " 
(date April 24th, 1776) has a story of a conversation between the king and 



124 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

Unfortunately the embassador's letters tell a different story. 
As a sincere friend as well as a loyal servant of Marie Antoinette, 
he expresses to the empress his deep feeling that, " as the comp- 
troller - general enjoyed a great reputation for integrity, and was 
beloved by the people, it was a melancholy thing that his dismiss- 
al should be in part the queen's work,"* and his fear that her 
conduct in the affair may " hereafter bring upon her the re- 
proaches of the king her husband, and even of the entire nation." 
The foreboding thus uttered was but too sadly realized. She 
had driven from her husband's councils the only man who com- 
bined with the penetration to perceive the absolute necessity of a 
large reform and the character of the changes required, the genius 
to devise them and the firmness to carry them out. 

Thirteen years later, a variety of causes, some of which will be 
unfolded in the course of this narrative, had contributed to irri- 
tate the impatience of the nation, while the unskillfulness of the 
existing minister had disarmed the royal authority. And the very 
same reforms which would now have been accepted with general 
thankfulness were then only used by demagogues as a pretext for 
further inflaming the minds of the multitude against every thing 
which bore the slightest appearance of authority, even against 
the very sovereign who had granted them. France and all Eu- 
rope to this day feel the sad effects of Marie Antoinette's inter- 
ference. 

She had given fatal proof of the truth of the words wrung 
from her by nervous excitement at the moment of the late king's 
death, when she declared that Louis and she were too young to 
reign ; and the best excuse that can be found for her is that she 
was not yet one-and-twenty. It was not, however, wholly from 
submission to the interested malevolence of others that she had 
shown herself the enemy of the great financier and statesman. 
She had a spontaneous dislike to the retrenchments which neces- 
sarily formed a great portion of his economical measures ; not as 

queen which illustrates her feeling toward the minister. She had just come 
in from the opera. He asked her " how she had been received by the Paris- 
ians ; if she had had the usual cheers." She made no reply ; the king un- 
derstood her silence. "Apparently, madame, you had not feathers enough." 
" I should have liked to have seen you there, sir, with your St. Germain and 
your Turgot ; you would have been rudely hissed." St. Germain was the min- 
ister of war. 

* Mercy to Maria Teresa, May 16th, 1'7'76, Arneth, ii., p. 446. 



HER SHARE IN TURGOTS DISMISSAL. 125 

interfering witli tlie indulgence of any extravagant tastes of her 
own, but as restraining her power of gratifying her friends. For 
she was entirely impressed with the idea that no person or body 
could have any right to call in question the king's disposal of the 
national revenue ; and that there was no prerogative of the crown 
of which the exercise was more becoming to the royal dignity 
than that of granting pensions or creating sinecures with no lim- 
itations but such as might be imposed by his own will or discre- 
tion. And on this point her husband fully shared her feelings. 
"What," said he, on one occasion to Turgot, who was urging 
him to refuse an utterly unwarrantable application for a pension. 
" What are a thousand crowns a year ?" " Sire," replied the min- 
ister, " they are the taxation of a. village." The king acquiesced 
for the moment, but probably not without some secret wincing at 
the control to which he seemed to be subjected ; and we may, 
perhaps, suppose that even the queen's disapproval of the minis- 
ter would have been less effectual had it not been re-enforced by 
the king's own feelings. 

In fact, that the part which she took against the great minister 
was the fruit of mere inconsiderateness and ignorance of the feel- 
ings and necessities of the nation, and that, if she had known the 
depth of the people's distress, and the degree in which it was 
caused by the viciousness of the whole existing system of gov- 
ernment, she would gladly have promoted every measure which 
could tend to their relief, we may find abundant proof in a letter 
which she had written to her mother, a few weeks earlier. Maria 
Teresa had spoken with some harshness of the French fickleness. 
Marie Antoinette replies :* 

" You are quite right in all you say about French levity, but I 
am truly grieved that on that account you should conceive an 
aversion for the nation. The disposition of the people is very in- 
consistent, but it is not bad. Pens and tongues utter a great 
many things which are not in their heart. The proof that they 
do not cherish hatred is that on the very slightest occasion they 
speak well of one, and even praise one much more than one de- 
serves. I have just this moment myself had experience of this. 
There had been a terrible fire in Paris in the Palace of Justice, 
and the same day I was to have gone to the opera, so I did not 
go, but sent two hundred louis to relieve the most pressing cases 

* January 14th, I'ZYe, Arneth, ii., p. 414. 



126 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

of distress ;* and ever since the fire, the very same people who 
had been circulating libels and songs against mef have been ex- 
tolling me to the skies." 

These revelations of her inmost thoughts to her mother show 
how real and warm was her affection for the French as a nation, 
as well as how little she claimed any merit for her endeavors to 
benefit them ; though a subsequent passage in the same letter also 
shows that she had been so much annoyed by some pasquinades 
and libels, of which she had been the subject, that she had be- 
come careful not to furnish fresh opportunities to her enemies: 
" We have had here such a quantity of snow as has not been seen 
for many years, so that people are going about in sledges, as they 
do at Vienna. We were out in them yesterday about this place ; 
and to-day there is to be a grand procession of them through Par- 
is. I should greatly have liked to be able to go ; but, as a queen 
has never been seen at such things, people might have made up 
stories if I had gone, and I preferred giving up the pleasure to 
being worried by fresh libels." 

She was still as eager as ever in the pursuit of amusement, and 
especially of novelties in that way, when not restrained by con- 
siderations such as those which she here mentions. When at 
Choisy, she gave water parties on the river in boats with awnings, 
which she called gondolas, rowing down as far as the very en- 
trance to the city. It was not quite a prudent diversion for her, 
for at this time her health was not very strong. She easily caught 
cold, and the reports of such attacks often caused great uneasiness 
at Vienna; but the watermen were highly delighted, looking on 
her act in putting herself under their cai*e as a compliment to 
their craft ; and some of them, to increase her pleasure, jumped 
overboard and swam about. Their well-meant gallantry, how- 
ever, was nearly having an unfavorable effect ; unaware that it 
was not an accident, she thought that their lives were in danger, 
and the fear for them turned her sick, while Madame de Lam- 

* The ground-floor of the palace was occupied by the shops of jewelers 
and milliners, some of whom were great sufferers by the fire. 

f In a letter written at the end of 1*775, Mercy reports to the empress that 
some of Turgot's economical reforms had produced great discontent among 
those " qui trouvent leur interet dans le desordre," which they had vented in 
scandalous and seditious writings. Many songs of that character had come 
out, some of which were attributed to Beaumarchais, " le roi et la reine n'y 
ont point ete respectes." — Becanber 11th, 17*75. Arneth, ii., p. 410. 



SHE IND TIL QES IN PL A T. 127 

balle fainted away. But when she perceived the truth, the qualm 
passed away, and she rewarded them handsomely for their duck- 
ing ; begging, however, that it might not be repeated, and assur- 
ing them that she needed no such proof to convince her of their 
dutiful and faithful loyalty. 

But the craving for excitement which was bred and nourished 
by the continuance of her unnatural position with respect to her 
husband in some parts of his treatment of her, was threatening to 
produce a very pernicious effect by leading her to become a gam- 
bler. Some of those ladies whom she admitted to her intimacy 
were deeply infected with this fatal passion ; and one of the most 
mischievous and intriguing of the whole company, the Princess 
de Guimenee, introduced a play-table at some of her balls, which 
she induced Marie Antoinette to attend. At first the queen took 
no share in the play; as she had hitherto borne none, or only a 
formal part, in the gaming which, as we have seen, had long been 
a recognized feature in court entertainments; but gradually the 
hope of banishing vexation, if only by the substitution of a heav- 
ier care, got dominion over her, and in the autumn of 1776 we 
find Mercy commenting on her losses at lansquenet and faro, at 
that time the two most fashionable round games, the stakes at 
which often rose to a very considerable amount. Though she 
continued to indulge in this unhealthy pastime for some time, in 
Mercy's opinion she never took any real interest in it. She prac- 
ticed it only because she wished to pass the time, and to drive 
away thought; and because the one accomplishment which she 
wanted was the art of refusing. She even carried her complai- 
sance so far as to allow professed gaming-table keepers to be 
brought from Paris to manage a faro -bank in her apartments, 
where the play was often continued long after midnight. It was 
not the least evil of this habit that it unavoidably left the king, 
who never quit his own apartments in the evening, to pass a 
great deal of time by himself ; but, as if to make up for his cold- 
ness in one way, he was most indulgent in every other, and seem- 
ed to have made it a rule never to discountenance any thing which 
could amuse her. His behavior to her, in Mercy's eyes, seemed 
to resemble servility ; " it was that of the most attentive court- 
ier," and was carried so far as to treat with marked distinction 
persons whose character he was known to disapprove, solely be- 
cause she regarded them with favor.* 

* Mercy to Maria Teresa, November 15th, 1776, Arneth, ii., p. 524. 



128 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

In cases such as these the defects in the king's character con- 
tributed very injuriously to aggravate those in hers. She required 
control, and he was too young to exercise it. He had too little 
liveliness to enter into her amusements ; too little penetration to 
see that, though inany of them — it may be said all, except the 
gaming-table — were innocent if he partook of them, indulgence 
in them, when he did not share them, could hardly fail to lead to 
unfriendly comments and misconstruction ; though even his pres- 
ence could hardly have saved his queen's dignity from some hu- 
miliation when wrangles took place, and accusations of cheating 
were made in her presence. The gaming-table is a notorious lev- 
eler of distinctions, and the worst-behaved of the guests were too 
frequently the king's own brothers ; they were rude, overbearing, 
and ill-tempered. The Count de Provence on one occasion so 
wholly forgot the respect due to her, that he assaulted a gentle- 
man in her presence ; and the Count d'Artois, who played for 
very high stakes, invariably lost his temper when he lost his mon- 
ey. Indeed, the queen seems to have felt the discredit of such 
scenes; and it is probable that it was their frequent occurrence 
which led to a temporary suspension of the faro-bank ; as a vio- 
lent quarrel on the race-course between d'Artois and his cousin, 
the Duke de Chartres, whom he openly accused of cheating him, 
for a while disgusted her with horse-races, and led her to propose 
a substitution of some of the old exercises of chivalry, such as 
running at the ring; a proposal which had a great element of 
popularity in it, as being calculated to lead to a renewal of the 
old French pastimes, which seemed greatly preferable to the ex- 
isting rage for copying, and copying badly, the fashions and pur- 
suits of England. 



EMBABBASSMENTS OF THE QUEEN. 129 



CHAPTER XII. 

Marie Antoinette finds herself in Debt. — Forgeries of her Name are com- 
mitted. — The Queen devotes herself too much to Madame de Pohgnac and 
others. — Versailles is less frequented. — Remonstrances of the Empress. — 
Volatile Character of the Queen. — She goes to the Bals d'Opera at Paris. — 
She receives the Duke of Dorset and other English Nobles with Favor. — 
Grand Entertainment given her by the Count de Provence. — Character of 
the Emperor Joseph. — He visits Paris and Versailles. — His Feelings to- 
ward and Conversations with the King and Queen. — He goes to the Opera. 
— His Opinion of the Queen's Friends. — Marie Antoinette's Letter to the 
Empress on his Departure. — The Emperor leaves her a Letter of Advice. 

But this addiction to play, though it was that consequence of 
the influence of the society to which Marie Antoinette was at 
this time so devoted, which would have seemed the most objec- 
tionable in the eyes of rigid moralists, was not that which ex- 
cited the greatest dissatisfaction in the neighborhood of the 
court. Excessive gambling had so long been a notorious vice of 
the French princes, that her letting herself down to join the 
gaming-table was not regarded as indicating any peculiar laxity 
of principle ; while the stakes which she permitted herself, and 
the losses she incurred, though they seemed heavy to her anxious 
German friends, were as nothing when compared with those of 
the king's brothers. Even when it became known that she was 
involved in debt, that again was regarded as an ordinary occur- 
rence, apparently even by the king himself, who paid the amount 
(about £20,000) without a word of remonstrance, merely remark- 
ing that he did not wonder at her funds being exhausted since 
she had such a passion for diamonds. For a great portion of the 
debts had been incurred for some diamond ear-rings which the 
queen herself did not wish for, and had only bought to gratify 
Madame de Polignac, who had promised her custom to the jew- 
eler who had them for sale. Marie Antoinette had evidently be- 
come less careful in regulating her expenses, till she was awakened 
by the discovery of a crime which she herself imputed to her 
own carelessness in such matters. The wife of the king's treas- 
urer had borrowed money in her name, and had forged her hand- 

9 



130 . LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

writing to letters of acknowledgment of the loans. The fraud 
was only discovered through Mercy's vigilance, and the criminal 
was at once seized and punished ; but it proved a wholesome les- 
son to the queen, who never forgot it, though, as we shall see here- 
after, if others remembered it, the recollection only served to in- 
duce them to try and enrich themselves by similar knaveries. 

And this devotion of the queen to the society of the Polignacs 
and Guimenees, " her society," as she sometimes called it,* had 
also a mischievous effect in diminishing her popularity with the 
great body of the nobles. The custom of former sovereigns had 
been to hold receptions several evenings in each week, to which 
the men and women of the highest rank were proud to repair to 
pay their court. But now the royal apartments were generally 
empty, the king being alone in his private cabinet, while the queen 
was passing her time at some small private party of young peo- 
ple, by her presence often seeming to countenance intrigues of 
which she did not in her heart approve, and giddy conversation 
which was hardly consistent with her royal position ; though 
Mercy, in reporting these habits to the empress, adds that the 
queen's own demeanor, even in the moments of apparently unre- 
strained familiarity, was marked by such uniform self-possession 
and dignity, that no one ever ventured to take liberties with her, 
or to approach her without the most entire respect.f 

It was hardly strange, then, that those who were not members 
of this society should feel offended at finding the court, as it 
were, closed against them, and should cease to frequent the pal- 
ace when they had no certainty of meeting any thing but empty 
rooms. They even absented themselves from the queen's balls, 
which in consequence were so thinly attended that sometimes 
there were scarcely a dozen dancers of each sex, so that it was 
universally remarked that never within the memory of the old- 
est courtiers had Versailles been so deserted as it was this win- 
ter ; the difference between the scene which the palace presented 
now from what had been witnessed in previous seasons striking 

* " Le petit nombre de ceux que la Reine appelle ' sa soeiete.' " — Mercy to 
Maria Teresa, February 15th, 1777, Arneth, iii., p. 18. 

•)• " II faut cependant convenir que dans ces circonstanees si rapprochees 
de la familiarite, la Reine, par un maintien qui tient h son esprit et ^ son ame, 
a toujours su imprimer ^ ceux qui I'entouraient une contenance de respect 
qui contrebalancait un peu la liberte des propos." — Mercy to Maria Teresa, 
Arneth, ii., p. 620. 



ADMONITIONS OF MARIA TERESA. 131 

the queen herself, and inclining her to listen more readily to the 
remonstrances which, at Mercy's instigation, the empress address- 
ed to her. Her mother pointed out to her, with all the weight 
of her own long experience, the incompatibility of a private mode 
of life, such as is suitable for subjects, with the state befitting a 
great sovereign ; and urged her to recollect that all the king's 
subjects, so long as their rank and characters were such as to en- 
title them to admission at court, had an equal right to her atten- 
tion ; and that the system of exclusiveness which she had adopted 
was a dereliction of her duty, not only to those who were thus de- 
prived of the honors of the reception to which they were entitled, 
but also to the king, her husband, who was injured by any line of 
conduct which tended to discourage the nobles of the land from 
paying their respects to him. 

In the midst of all her giddiness, Marie Antoinette always list- 
ened with good humor, it may even be said with docility, to hon- 
est advice. No one ever in her rank was so unspoiled by author- 
ity ; and more than one conversation which she held with the 
embassador on the subject showed that these remonstrances, re- 
enforced as they were by the undeniable fact of the thinness of 
the company at the palace, had made an impression on her mind ; 
though such impressions were as yet too apt to be fleeting, and 
too liable to be overborne by fresh temptations ; for in volatile 
impulsiveness she resembled the French themselves, and the good 
resolutions she made one day were always liable to be forgotten 
the next. Nothing as yet was steady and unalterable in her char- 
acter but her kindness of heart and graciousness of manner ; they 
never changed ; and it was on her genuine goodness of disposition 
and righteousness of intention that her German friends relied for 
producing an amendment as she grew older, far more than on any 
regrets for the past, or intentions of improvement for the future, 
which might be wrung from her by any momentary reflection or 
vexation. 

If Versailles was less lively than usual, Paris, on the other hand, 
had never been so gay as during the carnival of 1777. The queen 
went to several of the masked balls at the opera with one or oth- 
er of her brothers-in-law and their wives ; the king expressing his 
perfect willingness that she should so amuse herself, but never be- 
ing able to overcome his own indolence and shyness so far as to 
accompany her. It could not have been a very lively amusement. 
She did not dance, but sat in an arm-chair surveying the dancers, 



132 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

or walked down the saloon attended by an officer of tlie body- 
guard and one lady in waiting, both masked like herself. Oc- 
casionally she would grant to some noble of high rank the honor 
of walking at her side ; but it was remarked that those whom 
she thus distinguished were often foreigners ; some English no- 
blemen, such as the Duke of Dorset and Lord Strathavon being 
especially favored, for a reason which, as given by Mercy, shows 
that that insular stiffness which, with national self-complacency, 
Britons sometimes confess as a not unbecoming characteristic, 
was not at that time attributed to them by others ; since the em- 
bassador explains the queen's preference by the self-evident fact 
that the English gentlemen were the best dancers, and made the 
best figure in a ball-room. 

But all the other festivities of this winter were thrown into the 
shade by an entertainment of extraordinary magnificence, which 
was given in the queen's honor by the Count de Provence at his 
villa at Brunoy.* The count was an admirer of Spenser, and ap- 
peared to desire to embody the spirit of that poet of the ancient 
chivalry in the scene which he presented to the view of his illus- 
trious guest when she entered his grounds. Every one seemed 
asleep. Groups of cavaliers, armed cap-a-pie, and surrounded by 
a splendid retinue of squires and pages, were seen slumbering on 
the ground ; their lances lying by their sides, their shields hang- 
ing on the trees which overshado-wed them ; their very horses re- 
posing idly on the grass on which they cared not to browse. All 
seemed under the influence of a spell as powerful as that under 
which Merlin had bound the pitiless daughter of Arthur; but 
the moment that Marie Antoinette passed within the gates the 
enchantment was dissolved ; the pages sprung to their feet, and 
brought the easily roused steeds to their awakened masters. 
Twenty-five challengers, with scarfs of green, the queen's favorite 
color, on snow-white chargers, overthrew an equal number of an- 
tagonists ; but no deadly wounds were given. The victory of her 
champions having been decided, both parties of combatants min- 
gled as spectators at a play, and afterward as dancers at a grand 
ball which was wound up by a display of fire-works and a superb 
illumination, of which the principal ornament was a gorgeous 
bouquet of flowers, in many-colored fire, lighting up the inscrip- 
tion " Vive Louis ! Vive Marie Antoinette !" 

* Brunoy is about fifteen miles from Paris. 



VISIT OF THE EMPEROR. 133 

At last, however, the carnival came to an end. Not too soon 
for the queen's good, since hunts and long rides by day, and balls 
kept up till a late hour by night, had been too much for her 
strength,* so that even indifferent observers remarked that she 
looked ill and had grown thin. But even had Lent not inter- 
rupted her amusements, she would have ceased for a while to re- 
gard them, her whole mind being now devoted to preparing for 
the reception of her brother, the Emperor Joseph, whose visit, 
which had been promised in the previous year, was at last fixed 
for the month of April. It was anticipated with anxiety by the 
Empress and Mercy, as well as by Marie Antoinette. He was a 
prince of a peculiar disposition and habits. Before his accession 
to the imperial throne, he had been kept, apparently not greatly 
against his will, in the background. Nor, while his father lived, 
did he give any indications of a desire for power, or of any capac- 
ity for exercising it ; but since he had been placed on the throne 
he had displayed great activity and energy, though he was still, 
in the opinion of many, more of a philosopher — a detractor might 
have said more of a pedant — than of a statesman. He studied 
theories of government, and was extremely fond of giving advice ; 
and as both Louis and Marie Antoinette were persons who in 
many respects stood in need of friendly counsel, Mercy and Maria 
Teresa had both looked forward to his visit to the French court 
as an event likely to be of material service to both, while his sis- 
ter regarded it with a mixed feeling of hope and fear, in which, 
however, the pleasurable emotions predominated. 

She was not insensible to the probability that he would disap- 
prove of some of her habits ; indeed, we have already seen that 
he had expressed his disapproval of them, and of some of her 
friends, in the preceding year; and she dreaded his- lectures ; but, 
on the other hand, she felt confident that a personal acquaintance 
with the court would prove to bin* that many of the tales to her 
prejudice which had reached him had been- mischievous exagger- 
ations, and that thus he would be able to disabuse their mother, 
and to tranquilize her mind on many points. She hoped, too, 
that a personal knowledge of each other by him and her own hus- 
band would tend to cement a real friendship between them ; and 



* "Au reste il est temps pour la sante de la Reine que le carnaval finisse. 
On remarque qu'elle s'en altere, et que sa Majeste raaigrit beaucoup." — Marie 
Therese a Louis XVI, la date Fevrier 1, 1777, p. 101. 



134 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

that his stronger mind would obtain an influence over Louis, 
which might induce him to rouse himself from his ordinary apathy 
and reserve, and make him more of a man of the world and more 
of a companion for her. Lastly, but probably above all, she 
thirsted with sisterly affection for the sight of her brother, and 
anticipated with pride the opportunity of presenting to her new 
countrymen a relation of whom she was proud on account of his 
personal endowments and character, and whose imperial rank 
made his visit wear the appearance of a marked compliment to 
the whole French nation. 

High-strung expectations often insure their own disappoint- 
ment, but it was not so in this instance ; though the august visit- 
or's first act displayed an eccentricity of disposition which must 
have led more people than one to entertain secret misgivings as to 
the consequences which might flow from a visit which had such 
a commencement. Like his brother Maximilian, he too traveled 
incognito, under the title of the Count Falkenstein ; and he per- 
sisted in maintaining his disguise so absolutely that he refused to 
occupy the apartments which the queen had prepared for him in 
the palace, and insisted on taking up his quarters with Mercy in 
Paris, and at a hotel, for the few days which he passed at Ver- 
sailles. 

However, though by his conduct in this matter he to some ex- 
tent disappointed the hope which his sister had conceived of an 
uninterrupted intercourse with him during his stay in France, in 
every other respect the visit passed off to the satisfaction of all 
the parties principally concerned. Fortunately, at their first in- 
terview Marie Antoinette herself made a most favorable impres- 
sion on him. She had been but a child when he had last seen 
her. She was now a woman, and he was wholly unprepared for 
the matured and queenly beauty at which she had arrived. He 
was not a man to flatter any one, but almost his first words to her 
were that, had she not been his sister, he could not have refrained 
from seeking her hand that he might secure to himself so lovely 
a partner ; and each succeeding meeting strengthened his admi- 
ration of her personal graces. She, always eager to please, was 
gratified at the feeling she had inspired ; and thus an affection- 
ate tone was from the first established between them, and all re- 
serve was banished from their conversation. It was not dimin- 
ished by the admonitions which, as he conceived, his age and 
greater experience entitled him to address to her, though some- 



JOSEPH'S ADVICE TO THE KING. 135 

times they took tlie form of banter and ridicule, sometimes that 
of serious reproof ;* but she bore all his lectures with unvarying 
good humor, promising him that the time should come when she 
would make the amendment which he desired ; never attempting 
to conceal from him, and scarcely to excuse, the faults of which 
she was not unconscious, nor the vexations which in some particu- 
lars continually disquieted her. 

It was, at least, equally fortunate that the king also conceived 
a great liking for his brother-in-law at first sight. His character 
disposed him to receive with eagerness advice from one who had 
himself occupied a throne for several years, and whose relation- 
ship seemed a sufficient warrant that his counsels would be honest 
and disinterested. Accordingly those about him soon remarked 
that Louis treated the emperor with a cordiality that he had nev- 
er shown to any one else. They had many long and interesting 
conversations, sometimes with Marie Antoinette as a third party, 
sometimes by themselves. Louis discussed with the emperor his 
anxiety to have a family, and his hopes of such a result ; and 
Joseph expressed his opinion freely on all subjects, even volun- 
teering suggestions of a change in the king's habits ; as when he 
recommended him, as a part of his kingly duty, to visit the dif- 
ferent provinces, sea-ports, cities, and manufacturing towns of his 
kingdom, so as to acquaint himself generally with the feelings 
and resources of the people. Louis listened with attention. If 
there was any case in which the emperor's advice was thrown 
away, it was, if the queen's suspicions were correct, when he rec- 
ommended to the king a line of conduct adverse to her influence. 

Mercy had told the emperor that Louis was devotedly attached 
to the queen, but that he feared her at least as much as he loved 
her; and Joseph would have desired to see some of this fear 
transferred to and felt by her ; and showed his wish that the 
king should exert his legitimate authority as a husband to check 
those habits of his wife of which they both disapproved, and 
which she herself did not defend. But, even if Louis did for a 
moment make up his mind to adopt a tone of authority, his reso- 
lution faded away in his wife's presence before her superior reso- 

* Once when he had spoken to her with a severity which alarmed Mercy, 
who feared it might irritate the queen, " II me dit en riant qu'il en avail agi 
ainsi pour sonder I'ame de la reine, et voir si par la force il n'y aurait pas 
moyen d'obtenir plus que par la douceur." — Mercy to Mana Teresa, Arneth, 
iii., p. 79. 



136 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

lution ; and to the end of their days she continued to be the lead- 
er, and he to follow her guidance. 

It need hardly be told that so august a visitor had entertain- 
ments given in his honor. The king gave banquets at Versailles, 
the queen less formal parties at her Little Trianon, though gaye- 
ties were not much to Joseph's taste ; and, at a visit which his 
sister compelled him to pay to the opera, he remained ensconced 
at the back of her box till she dragged him forward, and, as if 
by main force, presented him to the audience. The whole thea- 
tre resounded with applause, expressed in such a way as to mark 
that it was to the queen's brother, fully as much as to the emper- 
or, that the homage was paid. The opera was " Iphigenie," the 
chorus in which, " Chantons, celebrons notre reine,^'' had by this 
time been almost as fully adopted, as the expression of the na- 
tional loyalty, as " God save the Queen " is in England. But even 
on its first performance it had not been hailed with more rapt- 
urous cheering than shook the whole house on this occasion ; and 
Joseph had the satisfaction of believing that his sister's hold on 
the affection and on the respect of the Parisians was securely es- 
tablished. 

He was less pleased at the races in the Bois de Boulogne, 
which he visited the next day. No inconsiderable part of Mer- 
cy's disapproval of such gatherings had been founded on the 
impropriety of gentlemen appearing in the queen's presence in 
top-boots and leather breeches, instead of in court dress ; and the 
emperor's displeasure appears to have been chiefly excited by the 
hurry and want of stately order which were inseparable from the 
excitement of a race-course, and which, indifferent as he was to 
many points of etiquette, seemed even to him derogatory to the 
majesty of a queen to witness so closely. But he was far more 
dissatisfied with the company at the Princess de Guimenee's, to 
which the queen, with not quite her usual judgment, persuaded 
him one evening to accompany her. He saw not only gambling 
for much higher stakes than could be "right for any lady to 
venture (the queen did not play herself), but he saw those who 
took part in the play lose their tempers over their cards and 
quarrel with one another ; while he heard the hostess herself ac- 
cused of cheating, the gamesters forgetting the respect due to 
their queen in their excitement and intemperance. He spoke 
strongly on the subject to Marie Antoinette, declaring that the 
apartment was no better than a common gaming-house ; but was 



THE EMPEROR'S OPINION OF LOUIS. 137 

greatly mortified to see that his reproofs on this subject were re- 
ceived with less than the usual attention, and that she allowed 
her partiality for those whom she called her friends to outweigh 
her feeling of the impropriety of disorders of which she could 
not deny the existence. 

But entertainments and amusements were not permitted to en- 
gross much of his time. If he visited the king and queen as a 
brother, he was visiting France and Paris as a sovereign and a 
statesman, and as such he made a careful inspection of all that 
Paris had most worthy of his attention — of the barracks, the 
arsenals, the hospitals, the manufactories. And he acquired a 
very high idea of the capabilities and resoui'ces of the country, 
though, at the same time, a very low opinion of the talents and 
integrity of the existing ministers. Of the king himself he con- 
ceived a favorable estimate. Of his desire to do his duty to his 
people he had always been convinced, but, in a long conversa- 
tion which he had held with him on the character of the French 
people,* and of the best mode of governing them, in which Louis 
entered into many details, he found his correctness of judgment 
and general knowledge of sound principles of policy far superior 
to his anticipations, though at the same time he felt convinced 
that his want of readiness and decision, and his timidity in action, 
would always render and keep him very inferior to the queen, 
especially whenever it should be necessary to come to a prompt 
decision on matters of moment. 

After a visit of six weeks, he quit Paris for his dominions 
in the Netherlands at the end of May, and a letter of the queen 
to her mother is very expressive of the pleasure which she had 
received from his visit, and of the lasting benefits which she 
hoped to derive from it. 

"Versailles, June 14th. 

" My dearest Mother, — It is plain truth that the departure 
of the emperor has left a void in my heart from which I can not 
recover. I was so happy during the short time of his visit that 
at this moment it all seems like a dream. But one thing will 
never be a dream to me, and that is, the good advice and counsel 
which he gave me, and which is forever engraven in my heart. 

" I must tell my dear mamma that he gave me one thing which 
I earnestly begged of him, and which causes me the greatest 

* Arneth, iii., p. 73. 



138 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

pleasure : it is a packet of advice, which he has left me in writ- 
ing. At this moment it constitutes my chief reading; and, if 
ever I could forget what he said to me, which I do not believe I 
ever could, I should still have this paper always before me, which 
would soon recall me to my duty. My dear mamma will have 
learned by the courier, who started yesterday, how well the king 
behaved during the last moments of my brother's visit. I can 
assure you that I thoroughly understand him, and that he was 
really affected at the emperor's departure. As he does not always 
recollect to pay attention to forms, he does not at all times show 
his feelings to the outer world, but all that I see proves to me 
that he is truly attached to my brother, and that he has the gi'eat- 
est regard for him ; and at the moment of my brother's depart- 
ure, when I was in the deepest distress, he showed an attention to, 
and a tenderness for, me which all my life I shall never forget, 
and which would attach me to him, if I had not been attached to 
him already. 

" It is impossible that my brother should not have been pleased 
with this nation. For one who, like him, knows how to estimate 
men, must have seen that, in spite of the exceeding levity which 
is inveterate in the people, there is a manliness and cleverness in 
them, and, speaking generally, an excellent heart, and a desire to 

do right. The only thing is to manage them properly I 

have this moment received your dear letter by the post. What 
goodness yours is, at a moment when you have so much business 
to think of, to recollect my name day ! It overwhelms me. You 
offer up prayers for my happiness. The greatest happiness that 
I can have is to know that you are pleased with me, to deserve 
your kindness, and to convince you that no one in the world feels 
greater affection or greater respect for you than I." . 

It is a letter very characteristic of the writer, as showing that 
neither time nor distance could chill her affection for her family ; 
and that the attainment of royal authority had in no degree ex- 
tinguished her habitual feeling of duty : that it had even strength- 
ened it by making its performance of importance not only to her- 
self, but to others. Nor is the jealousy for the reputation of the 
French people, and the desire so warmly professed that they 
should have won her brother's favorable opinion, less becoming in 
a queen of France ; while, to descend to minor points, the neat- 
ness and felicity of the language may be admitted to prove, if her 



THE EMPEROR'S ADVICE. 139 

education had been incomplete when she left Austria, with how 
much pains, since her progress had depended on herself, she had 
labored to make up for its deficiencies. That she should have 
asked her brother, as she here mentions, to leave her his advice in 
writing, is a practical proof that her expression of an earnest de- 
sire to do her duty was not a mere form of words ; while the res- 
olution which she avows never to forget his admonitions shows a 
genuine humility and candor, a sincere desire to be told of and to 
amend her faults, which one is hardly prepared to meet with in a 
queen of one-and-twenty. For Joseph did not' spare her, nor for- 
bear to set before her in the plainest light those parts of her con- 
duct which he disapproved. He told her plainly that if in France 
people paid her respect and observance, it was only as the wife of 
their king that they honored her ; and that the tone of superiori- 
ty in which she sometimes allowed herself to speak of him was 
as ill-judged as it was unbecoming. He hinted his dissatisfaction 
at her conduct toward him as her husband in a series of ques- 
tions which, unless she could answer as he wished, must, even in 
her own judgment, convict her of some failure in her duties to 
him. Did she show him that she was wholly occupied with him, 
that her study was to make him shine in the opinion of his sub- 
jects without any thought of herself ? Did she stifle every wish 
to shine at his expense, to be affable when he was not so, to seem 
to attend to matters which he neglected ? Did she preserve a 
discreet silence as to his faults and weaknesses, and make others 
keep silence about them also ? Did she make excuses for him, 
and keep secret the fact of her acting as his adviser? Did she 
study his character, his wishes ? Did she take care never to seem 
cold or weary when with him, never indifferent to his conversa- 
tion or his caresses ? 

The other matters on which the emperor chiefly dwells were 
those on which Mercy, and, by Mercy's advice, Maria Teresa also, 
had repeatedly pressed her. But these questions of Joseph's set 
plainly before us some of his young sister's difficulties and temp- 
tations, and, it must be confessed, some points in which her con- 
duct was not wholly unimpeachable in discretion, even though her 
solid affection for her husband never wavered for a moment. In 
some respects they were an ill-assorted couple. He was slow, re- 
served, and awkward. She was clever, graceful, lively, and look- 
ing for liveliness. Both were thoroughly upright and conscien- 
tious ; but he was indifferent to the opinions formed of him, while 



140 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

she was eager to please, to be applauded, to be loved. The temp- 
tation was great, to one so young, at times to put her graces in 
contrast to his uncouthness ; to be seen to lead him who had a 
right to lead her ; and, though we may regret, we can not greatly 
wonder, that she had not always steadiness to resist it. One tie 
was still wanting to bind her to him more closely ; and happily 
the day was not far distant when that was added to complete and 
rivet their union. 



MUTUAL JEALOUSIES OF HER FAVORITES. 141 



CHAPTER XIIL 

Impressions made on the Queen by the Emperor's Visit. — Mutual Jealousies 
of her Favorites. — The Story of the Chevalier d'Assas. — The Terrace Con- 
certs at Versailles. — More Inroads on Etiquette. — Insolence and Unpopu- 
larity of the Count d'Artois. — Marie Antoinette takes Interest in Politics. 
— France concludes an Alliance with the United States. — Affairs of Bava- 
ria. — Character of the Queen's Letters on Politics. — The Queen expects to 
become a Mother. — Voltaire returns to Paris. — The Queen declines to re- 
ceive him. — Misconduct of the Duke of Orleans in the Action off Ushant. — 
The Queen uses her Influence in his Favor. 

The emperor's admonitions and counsels had not been alto- 
gether unfruitful. If they had not at once entirely extinguished 
his sister's taste for the practices which he condemned, they had 
evidently weakened it ; even though, as the first impression wore 
oflf, and her fear of being overwhelmed with ennui* resumed its 
empire, she relapsed for a while into her old habits, it was no 
longer with the same eagerness as before, and not without fre- 
quent avowals that they had lost their attraction. She visibly 
drew off from the entanglements of the coterie with which she 
had surrounded herself. The members had grown jealous of one 
another. Madame de Polignac feared the influence of the supe- 
rior disinterestedness of the Princess de Lamballe ; Madame de 
Guimenee, who was suspected of a want of even common hon- 
esty, grudged every favor that was bestowed on Madame de Poli- 
gnac ; and their rivalry, which was not always suppressed even in 
the queen's presence, was not only felt by her to be degrading to 
herself, but was also wearisome. 

Throughout the autumn her occupations and amusements were 
of a simpler kind. She read more, and agreeably surprised De 
Vermond by the soundness of her reflections on many incidents 
and characters in history. Accounts of chivalrous deeds had an 
especial charm for her. Hume was still her favorite author. 

* When Mercy remonstrated with her on her relapse into some of her old 
habits from which at first she seemed to have weaned herself, " La seule re- 
ponse que faie obtenu a ete la crainte de s'ennuyer." — Mercy to Mat-ia Te- 
resa, November 19th, 17'7'7, Arneth, iii., p. 13. 



142 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

And it happened that, while the gallantry of the loyal champions 
of Charles I. was fresh in her memory, a casual conversation 
threw in her way an opportunity of doing honor to the self-de- 
voted heroism of a French soldier whom the proudest of the 
British cavaliers might have welcomed as a brother, but whose 
valiant and self-sacrificing fidelity had been left unnoticed by the 
worthless sovereign in whose service he had perished, and by his 
ministers, who thought only of securing the favor of the reign- 
ing mistress — favor to be won by actions of a very different com- 
plexion. 

In the Seven Years' War, when the French army, under the 
Marshal De Broglie, and the Prussians, under Prince Ferdinand of 
Brunswick, were watching one another in the neighborhood of 
Wesel, the Chevalier d'Assas, a captain in the regiment of Au- 
vergne, was in command of an outpost on a dark night of October. 
He had strolled a little in advance of his sentries into the wood 
which fronted his position, when suddenly he found himself sur- 
rounded and seized by a body of armed enemies. They were the 
advanced guard of the prince's army, who was marching to sur- 
prise De Broglie by a night attack, and they threatened him with 
instant death if he made the slightest noise. If he were but si- 
lent, he was safe as a prisoner of war ; but his safety would have 
been the ruin of the whole French army, which had no suspicion 
of its danger. He did not for even a moment hesitate. With all 
the strength of his voice he shouted to his men, who were within 
hearing, that the enemy were upon them, and fell, bayoneted to 
death, almost before the words had passed his lips. He had saved 
his comrades and his commander, and had influenced the issue of 
the whole campaign. The enemy, whose well-planned enterprise 
his self-devotion had baffled, paid a cordial tribute of praise to his 
heroism, Ferdinand himself publicly expressing his regret at the 
fate of one whose valor had shed honor on every brother-soldier ; 
but not the slightest notice had been taken of him by those in au- 
thority in France till his exploit was accidentally mentioned in 
the queen's apartments. It filled her with admiration. She ask- 
ed what had been done to commemorate so noble a deed. She 
was told "nothing;" the man and his gallantry had been alike 
forgotten. " Had he left descendants or kinsmen ?" " He had a 
brother and two nephews ; the brother a retired veteran of the 
same regiment, the nephews officers in different corps of the 
army." The dead hero was forgotten no longer. Marie Antoi- 



INVITATIONS TO THE TRIANON. 143 

nette never rested till she had procured an adequate pension for 
the hrother, which was settled in perpetuity on the family ; and 
promotion for both the nephews ; and, as a further compliment, 
Clostercamp, the name of the village which was the scene of the 
brave deed, was added forever to their family name. The pension 
is paid to this day. For a time, indeed, it was suspended while 
France was under the sway of the rapacious and insensible mur- 
derers of the king who had granted it ; but Napoleon restored it ; 
and, amidst all the changes that have since taken place in the gov- 
ernment of the country, every succeeding ruler has felt it equally 
honorable and politic to recognize the eternal claims which patri- 
otic virtue has on the gratitude of the country. 

Marie Antoinette had thus the honor of setting an example to 
the Government and the nation. Her heart was getting lighter 
as the vexations under which she had so long fretted began to 
disappear. The late card-parties were often superseded, through- 
out the autumn, by concerts on the terrace at Versailles, where 
the regimental bands were the performers, and to which all the 
well-dressed towns-people were admitted, while the queen, attend- 
ed by the princesses and her ladies, and occasionally escorted by 
Louis himself, strolled up and down and among the crowd, dif- 
fusing even greater pleasure than they themselves enjoyed ; Ma- 
rie Antoinette, as usual, being the central object of attraction, 
and greeting all with a beaming brightness of expression, and an 
affability as cordial as it was dignified, which deserved to win all 
hearts. One of the entertainments which she gave to the king at 
the Little Trianon may be recorded, not for any unusual sumpt- 
uousness of the spectacle, but as having been the occasion on 
which she made one more inroad on the established etiquette of 
the court in one of its most unaccountable restrictions : to such 
royal parties the king's ministers had never been regarded as ad- 
missible, but on this night Marie Antoinette commanded the com- 
pany of the Count and Countess de Maurepas. And the inno- 
vation was regarded not only by them as a singular favor, but by 
all their colleagues as a marked compliment to the whole body of 
ministers, and served to increase their desire to consult her in- 
clinations in every matter in which she took an interest. 

And the esteem which she thus conciliated was at this time not 
destitute of real importance, since the conduct of the other mem- 
bers of the royal family excited very different feelings. The 
Count de Provence was generally distrusted as intriguing and in- 



144 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

sincere. And the Count d'Artois, whose bad qualities were of a 
more conspicuous character, was becoming an object of general 
dislike, not so much from his dissipated mode of life as from 
the overbearing arrogance which he imparted into his pleasures. 
No rank was high enough to protect the objects of his displeas- 
ure from his insolence ; even ladies were not safe from it ;* while 
his extravagance was beyond all bounds, since he considered him- 
self entitled to claim from the national treasury whatever he 
might require in addition to his stated income. He was at the 
same time repairing one castle, that of St. Germain, which the 
king had given him ; rebuilding another large house which he 
had purchased in the same neighborhood ; and pulling down and 
rebuilding a third, named Bagatelle, in the Bois de Boulogne, 
which he had just bought, and as to which he had laid an enor- 
mous wager that it should be completed and furnished in sixty 
days. To win his bet nearly a thousand workmen were employed 
day and night, and, as the requisite materials could not be pro- 
vided at so short a notice, he sent patrols of his regiment to scour 
the roads, and seize every cart loaded with stones or timber for 
other employers, which he thus appropriated to his own use. He 
did, indeed, pay for the goods thus seized, and he won his bet, 
but when the princes of the land made so open a parade of their 
disregard of all law and all decency, one can hardly wonder that 
men in secret began to talk of a revolution, or that all the graces 
and gentleness of the queen should be needed to outweigh such 
grave causes of discontent and indignation. 

As the new year opened, affairs of a very different kind began 
to occupy the queen's attention. On political questions, the ad- 
vice which the empress gave her differed in some degree from 
that of her embassador. Maria Teresa was an earnest politician, 
but she was also a mother ; and, as being eager above all things 
for her daughter's happiness, while she entreated Marie Antoinette 
to study politics, history, and such other subjects as might quali- 
fy her to be an intelligent companion of the king, and so far as 
or whenever he might require it, his chief confidante, she warned 
her also against ever wishing to rule him. But Mercy was a 
statesman above every thing, and, feeling secure of being able to 
guide the queen, he desired to instill into her mind an ambition 

* See Marie Antoinette's account t6 her mother of his quarrel with the 
Duchess de Bourbon at a bal de V opera, Arneth, iii., p. 174. 



THE AMEBICAN WAB. 145 

to govern the king. On one most important question sbe proved 
wholly unable to do so, since the decision taken was not even in 
accordance with the judgment or inclination of Louis himself; 
but he allowed himself to be persuaded by two of his ministers 
to adopt a course against which Joseph had earnestly warned him 
in the preceding year, and which, as he had been then convinced, 
was inconsistent alike with his position as a king and with his 
interests as King of France. 

England had been for some years engaged in a civil war with 
her colonies in North America, and from the commencement of 
the contest a strong sympathy for the colonists had been evinced 
by a considerable party in France. Louis, who, for several rea- 
sons disliked England and English ideas, was at first inclined to 
coincide in this feeling as a development of anti-English princi- 
ples : he was far from suspecting that its source was rather a rev- 
olutionary and republican sentiment. But he had conversed with 
his brother-in-law on the possibility of advantages which might 
accrue to France from the weakening of her old foe, if French 
aid should enable the Americans to establish their independence. 
Joseph's opinion was clear and unhesitating : " I am a king ; it is 
my business to be royalist." And he easily convinced Louis that 
for one sovereign to assist the subjects of another monarch who 
were in open revolt, was to set a mischievous example which 
might in time be turned against himself. But since his return to 
Vienna, unprecedented disasters had befallen England ; a whole 
army had laid down its arras ; the ultimate success of the Amer- 
icans seemed to every statesman in Europe to be assured, and the 
prospect gave such encouragement to the war party in the French 
cabinet that Louis could resist it no longer. In February, 1778, 
a treaty was concluded with the United States, as the insurgents 
called themselves ; and France plunged into a war from which 
she had nothing to gain, which involved her in enormous ex- 
penses, which brought on her overwhelming defeats, and which, 
from its effects upon the troops sent to serve with the American 
army, who thus became infected with republican principles, had 
no slight influence in bringing about the calamities which, a few 
years later, overwhelmed both king and people. 

All Marie Antoinette's language on the subject shows that she 
viewed the quarrel with England with even greater repugnance 
than her husband ; but it is curious to see that her chief fear was 
lest the war should be waged by land, and that she felt much 

10 



146 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

greater confidence in the French navy than in the army ;* though 
it was just at this time that Voltaire was pointing out to his 
countrymen that England had always enjoyed and always would 
possess a maritime superiority which different inquirers might at- 
tribute to various causes, but which none could deny.f 

Even before the conclusion of this treaty, however, the Ameri- 
cans had found sympathizers in France, to one of whom some of 
the circumstances of the war which they were now waging gave 
a subsequent importance to which no talents or virtues of his own 
entitled him. The Marquis de La Fayette was a young man of 
ancient family, and of fair but not excessive fortune. He was 
awkward in appearance and manner, gawky, red-haired, and sin- 
gularly deficient in the accomplishments which were cultivated by 
other youths of his age and rank.J But he was deeply imbued 
with the doctrines of the new philosophy which saw virtue in the 
mere fact of resistance to authority ; and when the colonists took 
up arms, he became eager to afford them such aid as he could 
give. He made the acquaintance of Silas Deane, one of the most 
unscrupulous of the American agents, who promised him, though 
he was only twenty years of age, the rank of major-general. As 
he was at all times the slave of a most overweening conceit, he 
was tempted by that bait ; and, though he could not leave France 
without incurring the forfeiture of his military rank in the army 
of his own country, in April, 1777, he crossed over to America to 
serve as a volunteer under Washington, who naturally received 
with special distinction a recruit of such political importance. 
He was present at more than one battle, and was wounded at 
Brandywine ; but the exploit which made him most conspicuous 
was a ridiculous act of bravado in sending a challenge to Lord 

* " II y a apparence que notre marine dont on s'occupe depuis longtemps va 
bientot etre en activite. ' Dieu veuille que tous ces mouvements n'amenent 
pas la guerre de terre." — Marie Antoinette to Maria Teresa, March 18th, 1777, 
Arneth, iii., p. 174. 

f" Jamais les Anglais n'ont eu tant de superiorite sur mer; mais ils en 
eurent sur les Fran9ais dans tous les temps." — Siecle de Louis, ch. xxxv. 

\ The Comte de la Marck, who knew him well, says of him, " II etait gauche 
dans toutes ses mani^res ; sa taille etait tres elevee, ses cheveux tres roux, il 
dansait sans grace, montait mal k cheval, et les jeunes gens avec lesquels il 
vivait se montraient plus adroits que lui dans les diverses exercises d'alors h 
la mode." He describes his income as " une fortune de 120,000 livres de rente,'' 
a little under £5000 a year. — Correspondance entre le Comte de Mirabeau et le 
Comte de la Marck, i., p. 47. 



AFFAIRS OF BAVARIA. 147 

Carlisle, the chief of the English Commissioners who in 1*778 
were dispatched to America to endeavor to re-establish peace. 
However, the close of the war, which ended, as is well known, in 
the humiliation of Great Britain and the establishment of the 
independence of the colonies, made him seem a hero to his coun- 
trymen on his return. The queen, always eager to encourage and 
reward feats of warlike enterprise, treated him with marked dis- 
tinction, and procured him from her husband not only the res- 
toration of his commission, but promotion to the command of a 
regiment ;* kindness which, as will be seen, he afterward requited 
with the foulest ingratitude. 

Nor was this most imprudent war with England the only ques- 
tion of foreign politics which at this time interested Marie An- 
toinette. Her native land, her mother's hereditary dominions, 
were also threatened with war. On the death of the Elector of 
Bavaria at the end of 1777, Joseph, who had been married to his 
sister, claimed a portion of his territories ; and Frederick of Prus- 
sia, that " bad neighbor," as Marie Antoinette was wont to call 
him, announced his resolution to resist that claim, by force of 
arms if necessary. If he should carry out the resolution which 
he had announced, and if war should in consequence break out, 
much would depend on the attitude which France would assume 
on her fidelity to or disregard of the alliance which had now 
subsisted more than twenty years. So all-important to Austria 
was her decision, that Maria Teresa forgot the line which, as a 
general rule of conduct, she had recommended to her daughter, 
and wrote to her with the most extreme earnestness to entreat 
her to lose no opportunity of influencing the king's council. If 
it depended upon Maria Teresa, the claim would probably not 
have been advanced ; but Joseph had made it on the part of the 
empire, and, when it was once made, the empress could not with- 
hold her support from her son. She therefore threw herself into 
the quarrel with as much earnestness as if it had been her own. 
Indeed, since Joseph had as yet no authority over her hereditary 
possessions, it was only by her armies that it could be maintain- 
ed ; and in her letters to her daughter she declared that Marie 
Antoinette had her happinesss, the welfare of her house, and of 



* " On a parle de moi dans tons les cercles, meme apres que la bonte de la 
reine m'eut valu le regiment du roi dragons." — Memoires de ma Main, Me- 
moires de La Fayette, i., p. 86. 



148 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

the whole Austrian nation in her hands ; that all depended on 
her activity and affection. She knew that the French ministers 
were inclined to favor the views of Frederick, but if the alliance 
should be dissolved it would kill her.* Marie Antoinette grew 
pale at reading so ominous a denunciation. It required no art to 
iniiame her against Frederick. The Seven Years' War had begun 
when she was but a year old; and all her life she had heard of 
nothing more frequently than of the rapacity and dishonesty of 
that unprincipled aggressor. She now entered with eagerness 
into her mother's views, and pressed them on Louis with unre- 
mitting diligence and considerable fertility of argument, though 
she was greatly dismayed at finding that not only his ministers, 
but he himself, regarded Austria as actuated by an aggressive am- 
bition, and compared her claim to a portion of Bavaria to the par- 
tition of Poland, which, six years before, had drawn forth unwont- 
ed expressions of honorable indignation from even his unworthy 
grandfather. The idea that the alliance between France and the 
empire was itself at stake on the question, made her so anxious 
that she sent for the ministers themselves, pressing her views on 
both Maurepas and Vergennes with great earnestness. But they, 
though still faithful to the maintenance of the alliance, sympa- 
thized with the king rather than with her in his view of the char- 
acter of the claim which the emperor had put forward ; and they 
also urged another argument for abstaining from any active inter- 
vention, that the finances of the country were in so deplorable a 
state that France could not afford to go to war. It was plain, as 
she told them, that this consideration should at least equally have 
prevented their quarreling with England. But, in spite of all her 
persistence, they were not to be moved from this view of the true 
interest of France in the conjuncture that had arisen ; and, ac- 
cordingly, in the brief war which ensued between the empire and 
Prussia, France took no part, though it is more than probable that 
her mediation between the belligerents, which had no little share 
in bringing about the peace of Teschen,f was in a great degree 
owing to the queen's influence. 

, * "La lettre ou Votre Majeste, parlant du Roi de Prusse, s'exprime ainsi 

'cela ferait un changement dans notre alliance, ce qui me donnerait la 

mort,' j'ai vu la reine palir en me lisant cett erticle." — Mercy to Maria 
Teresa, February 18th, lYYS, Arneth, iii., p. lYO. 

■j- See Coxe's " House of Austria," eh. cxxi. The war, which was marked by 
no action or event of importance, was terminated by the treaty of Teschen, 
May 10th, 1Y79. 



CONFIDENCE OF HUSBAND AND WIFE. 149 

For she was not discouraged by her first failure, but renewed 
her importunities from time to time ; and at last did succeed in 
wringing a promise from her husband that if Prussia should in- 
vade the Flemish provinces of Austria, France would arm on the 
empress's side. So fully did the affair absorb her attention that 
it made her indifferent to the gayeties which the carnival always 
brought round. She did, indeed, as a matter of duty, give one 
or two grand state balls, one of which, in which the dancers of 
the quadrilles were masked, and in which their dresses represent- 
ed the male and female costumes of India, was long talked of for 
both the magnificence and the novelty of the spectacle ; and she 
attended one or two of the opera-balls, under the escort of her 
brothers-in-law and their countesses ; but they had begun to pall 
upon her, and she made repeated offers to the king to give them 
up and to spend her evenings in quiet with him. But he was 
more inclined to prompt her to seek amusement than to allow her 
to sacrifice any,* even such as he did not care to partake of ; nev- 
ertheless, he was pleased with the offer, and it was observed by 
the courtiers that the mutual confidence of the husband and wife 
in each other was more marked and more firmly established than 
ever. He showed her all the dispatches, consulted her on all 
points, and explained his reasons when he could not adopt all her 
views. As Marie Antoinette wrote to her brother, " If it were 
possible to reckon" wholly on any man, the king was the one on 
whom she could thoroughly rely."f 

So greatly, indeed, did the quarrel between Austria and Prussia 
engross her, that it even occupied the greater part of letters whose 
ostensible object is to announce prospects of personal happiness 
which might have been expected to extinguish every other con- 
sideration. In one, after touching briefly on her health and hopes, 
she proceeds : 

" How kind my dear mamma is, to express her approval of the 
way in which I have conducted myself in these affairs up to the 
present time ! Alas ! there is no need for you to feel obliged to 
me ; it was my heart that acted in the whole matter. I am only 
vexed at not being able to enter myself into the feelings of all 

* " II n'a pas voulu y consentir, et a toujours ete attentif h. exciter lui-meme 
la reine aux choses qu'il jugeait pouvoir lui etre agreables." — Mercy to Maria 
Teresa, March 29th, 1'7'78, Arneth, iii., p. I'ZV. 

f Marie Antoinette to Joseph II. and Leopold II., p. 21, date January 16th, 



150 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

these ministers, so as to be able to make tbem comprehend how 
every thing which has been done and demanded by the authorities 
at Vienna is just and reasonable. But unluckily none are more 
deaf than those who will not hear ; and, besides, they have such a 
number of terms and phrases which mean nothing, that they be- 
wilder themselves before they come to say a single reasonable 
thing. I will try one plan, and that is to speak to them both in 
the king's presence, to induce them, at least, to hold language 
suitable to the occasion to the King of Prussia ; and in good truth 
it is for the interest and glory of the king* himself that I am anx- 
ious to see this done ; for he can not but gain by supporting allies 
who on every account ought to be so dear to him. 

" In other respects, and especially in my present condition, he 
behaves most admirably, and is most attentive to me. I protest 
to you, my dear mamma, that my heart would be torn by the idea 
that you could for a moment suspect his good-will in what has 
been done. No ; it is the terrible weakness of his ministers, and 
his own great want of self-reliance, which does all the mischief ; 
and I am sure that if he would never act but on his own judgment, 
every one would see his honesty, his correctness of feeling, and 
his tact, which at present they are far from appreciating."} 

And at the end of the month she writes again : 

" I saw Mercy a day or two ago : he showed me the articles 
which the King of Prussia sent to my brother. I think it is im- 
possible to see any thing more absurd than his proposals. In 
fact, they are so ridiculous that they must strike every one here ; 
I can answer for their appearing so to the king. I have not been 
able to see the ministers. M. de Vergennes has not been here 
[she is writing from Marly] ; he is not well, so that I must wait 
till we return to Versailles. 

" I had seen before the correspondence of the King of Prussia 
with my brother. It is most abominable of the former to have 
sent it here, and the more so since, in truth, he has not much to 
boast of. His imprudence, his bad faith, and his malignant tem- 
per are visible in every line, I have been enchanted with my 
brother's answers. It is impossible to put into letters more grace, 
more moderation, and at the same time more force. I am going 
to say something which is very vain ; but I do believe that there 
is not in the whole world any one but the emperor, the son of my 

* Louis. 

■)• Marie Antoinette to Maria Teresa, May 16th, Arneth, iii., p. 200. 



i 



SHE IS ABOUT TO BECOME A MOTHER. 151 

dearest mother, who has the happiness of seeing her every day, 
who could write in such a manner." 

There is no trace in these letters of the levity and giddiness of 
which Mercy so often complains, and which she at times did not 
deny. On the contrary, they display an earnestness as well as a 
good sense and an energy which are gracefully set oflE by the af- 
fection for her mother, and the pride in her brother's firmness and 
address which they also express. With respect to the conduct of 
Louis at this crisis we may perhaps differ from her ; and may 
think that he rarely showed so much self-reliance, the general 
want of which was in truth his greatest defect, as when he pre- 
ferred the arguments of Vergennes to her entreaties. But if her 
praises of the emperor are, as she herself terms them, vanity, it is 
the vanity of sisterly and patriotic affection, which can not but be 
regarded with approval ; and we may see in it an additional proof 
of the correctness of an assertion, repeated over and over again 
in Mercy's correspondence, that, whenever Marie Antoinette gave 
the rein to her own natural impulses, she invariably both thought 
and acted rightly. 

In one of the extracts which have just been quoted, the queen 
alludes to her own condition ; and that, in any one less unselfish, 
might well have driven all other thoughts from her head. For the 
event to which she had so long looked forward as that which was 
wanted to crown her happiness, and which had been so long de- 
ferred that at times she had ceased to hope for it at all, was at last 
about to take place — she was about to become a mother. Her 
own joy at the prospect was shared to its full extent by both the 
king and the empress. Louis, roused out of his usual reserve, 
wrote with his own hand to both the empress and the emperor, 
to give the intelligence ; and Maria Teresa declared that she had 
nothing left to wish for, and that she could now close her eyes in 
peace. And the news was received with almost equal pleasure by 
the citizens of Paris, who had long desired to see an heir born to 
the crown ; and by those of Vienna, who had not yet forgotten 
the fair young princess, the flower of her mother's flock, as they 
had fondly called her, whom they had sent to fill a foreign throne. 
Her own happiness exhibited itself, as usual, in acts of benevo- 
lence, in the distribution of liberal gifts to the poor of Paris and 
Versailles, and a foundation of a hospital for those in a similar 
condition with herself.* 

* Weber, i., p. 40. 



152 LIFE OF MAEIE ANTOINETTE. 

In tbe course of the spring, Paris was for a moment excited 
even more tlian by the declaration of war against England, or 
than by the expectation of the queen's confinement, by the re- 
turn of Voltaire, who had long been in disgrace with the court, 
and had been for rhany years living in a sort of tacit exile on the 
borders of the Lake of Geneva. He was now in extreme old 
age, and, believing himself to have but a short time to live, he 
wished to see Paris once more, putting forward as his principal 
motive his desire to superintend the performance of his tragedy 
of " Irene." His admirers could easily secure him a brilliant re- 
ception at the theatre ; but they were anxious above all things to 
obtain for him admission to the court, or at least a private inter- 
view with the queen. She felt in a dilemma. Joseph, a year be- 
fore, had warned her against giving encouragement to a man 
whose principles deserved the reprobation of all sovereigns. He 
himself, though on his return to Vienna he had passed through 
Geneva, had avoided an interview with him, while the empress 
had been far more explicit in her condemnation of his character. 
On the other hand, Marie Antoinette had not yet learned the art 
of refusing, when those who solicited a favor had personal access 
to her ; and she had also some curiosity to see a man whose lit- 
erary fame was accounted one of the chief glories of the nation 
and the age. She consulted the king, but found Louis, on this 
subject, in entire agreement with her mother and her brother. 
He had no literary curiosity, and he disapproved equally the les- 
sons which Voltaire had throughout his life sought to inculcate 
upon others, and the licentious habits with which he had exem- 
plified his own principles in action. She yielded to his objec- 
tions, and Voltaire, deeply mortified at the refusal,* was left to 
console himself as best he could with the enthusiastic acclama- 
tions of the play-goers of the capital, who crowned his bust on 
the stage, while he sat exultingly in his box, and escorted him 



* One of his admirers, seeing his mortification, said to him : " You are very 
simple to have wished to go to court. Do you know what would have hap- 
pened to you ? I will tell you. The king, with his usual affability, would have 
laughed in your face, and talked to you of your converts at Ferney. The 
queen would have spoken of your plays. Monsieur would have asked you 
what your income was. Madame would have quoted some of your verses. 
The Countess of Artois would have said nothing at all ; and the count would 
have conversed with you about ' the Maid of Orleans.' " — Marie Antoinette, 
Louis XVI. et la Famille Royale, p. 125, March 3d. 



4 



THE FRENCH ADMIRAL'S MISCONDUCT. 153 

back in triumpli to his house ; those who could approach near 
enough even kissing his garments as he passed, till he asked them 
whether they designed to kill him with delight; as, indeed, in 
some sense, they may be said to have done, for the excitement of 
the homage thus paid to him day after day, whenever he was seen 
in public, proved too much for his feeble frame. He was seized 
with illness, which, however, was but a natural decay, and in a few 
weeks after his arrival in Paris he died. 

As the year wore on, Marie Antoinette was fully occupied in 
making arrangements for the child whose coming was expected 
with such impatience. Her mother is of course her chief confi- 
dante. She is to be the child's godmother ; her name shall be 
the first its tongue is to learn to pronounce ; while for its early 
management the advice of so experienced a parent is naturally 
sought with unhesitating deference. Still, Marie Antoinette is 
far from being always joyful. Russia has made an alliance with 
Prussia ; Frederick has invaded Bohemia, and she is so overwhelm- 
ed with anxiety that she cancels invitations for parties which she 
was about to give at the Trianon, and would absent herself from 
the theatre and from all public places, did not Mercy persuade 
her that such a withdrawal would seem to be the effect, not of a 
natural anxiety, but of a despondency which would be both un- 
royal and unworthy of the reliance which she ought to feel on 
the proved valor of the Austrian armies. 

The war with England, also, was an additional cause of solici- 
tude and vexation. The sailors in whom she had expressed such 
confidence were not better able than before to contend with Brit- 
ish antagonists. In an undecisive skirmish which took place in 
July between two fleets of the first magnitude, the French admiral, 
D'Orvilliers, had made a practical acknowledgment of his inferior- 
ity by retreating in the night, and eluding all the exertions of the 
English admiral, Keppel, to renew the action. The discontent in 
Paris was great ; the populace was severe on one or two of the 
captains, who were thought to have taken undue care of their 
ships and of themselves, and especially bitter against the Duke 
de Chartres, who had had a rear-admiral's command in the fleet, 
and who, after having made himself conspicuous, before D'Orvil- 
liers sailed, by his boasts of the prowess which he intended to 
exhibit, had made himself equally notorious in the action itself 
by the pains he took to keep himself out of danger. On his re- 
turn to Paris, shameless as he was, he scarcely dared show his 



I 



154 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

face, till the Comte d'Artois persuaded tlie queen to throw her 
shield over him. It was impossible for him to remain in the 
navy ; but, to soften his fall, the count proposed that the king 
should create a new appointment for him, as colonel-general of 
the light cavalry. Louis saw the impropriety of such a step: 
truly it was but a questionable compliment to pay to his hussars, 
to place in authority over them a man under whom no sailo!" 
would willingly serve. Marie Antoinette in her heart was as in- 
dignant as any one. Constitutionally an admirer of bravery, she 
had taken especial interest in the affairs of the fleet and in the 
details of this action. She had honored with the most marked 
eulogy the gallantry of Admiral du Chaffault, who had been se- 
verely wounded ; but now she allowed herself to be persuaded 
that the duke's public disgrace would reflect on the whole royal 
family, and pressed the request so earnestly on the king that at 
last he yielded. In outward appearance the duke's honor was 
saved ; but the public, whose judgment on such matters is gener- 
ally sound, and who had revived against him some of the jests 
with which the comrades of Luxemburg had shown their scorn 
of the Duke de Maine, blamed her interference ; and the duke 
himself, by the vile ingratitude with which he subsequently re- 
paid her protection, gave but too sad proof that of all offenders 
against honor the most unworthy of royal indulgence is a cow- 
ard. 



i 



THE BIRTH OF A PRINCESS. 155 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Birth of Madame Royale. — Festivities of Thanksgiving. — The Dames de la 
Halle at the Theatre. — Thanksgiving at Notre Dame. — The King goes to 
a Bal d'Opera. — The Queen's Carriage breaks down. — Marie Antoinette has 
the Measles. — ^Her Anxiety about the War. — Retrenchments of Expense. 

Mercy, while deploring tlie occasional levity of the queen's 
conduct, and her immoderate thirst for amusement, had constant- 
ly looked forward to the birth of a child as the event which, by 
the fresh and engrossing occupation it would afford to her mind, 
would be the surest remedy for her juvenile heedlessness. And, 
as we have seen, the absence of any prospect of becoming a moth- 
er had, till recently, been a constant source of anxiety and vex- 
ation to the queen herself — the one drop of bitterness in her cup, 
which, but for that, would have been filled with delights. But 
this disappointment was now to pass away. From the moment 
that it was publicly announced that the queen was in the way to 
become a mother, one general desire seemed to prevail to show 
how deep an interest the whole nation felt in the event. In 
cathedrals, monasteries, abbeys, universities, and parish churches, 
masses were celebrated and prayers offered for her safe delivery. 
In many instances, private individuals even gave extraordinary 
alms to bring down the blessing of Heaven on the nation, so inter- 
ested in the expected event. And on the 19th of December, 1778, 
the prayers were answered, and the hopes of the country in great 
measure realized by the birth of a princess, who was instantly 
christened Marie Therese Charlotte, in compliment to the em- 
press, her godmother. 

The labor was long, and had nearly proved fatal to the mother, 
from the strange and senseless custom which made the queen's 
bed-chamber on such an occasion a reception-room for every one, 
of whatever rank or station, who could force his way in.* In 

* " La cour se precipite pele-mele avec la foule, car I'etiquette de France 
veut que tous entrent ^ ce moment, que nul ne soit refuse, et que le spectacle 
soit public d'une reine qui va donner un heritier h la couronne, ou seulement 
un enfant au roi." — Mem. de Goncourt, p. 105. 



» 



156 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

most countries, perhaps in all, the genuineness of a royal infant is 
assured by the presence of a few great officers of state ; but on 
this occasion not only all the ministers, with all the members of 
the king's or of the queen's household, were present in the cham- 
ber, but a promiscuous rabble filled the adjacent saloon and gal- 
lery, and, the moment that it was announced that the birth was 
about to take place, rushed in disorderly tumult into the apart- 
ment, some climbing on the chairs and sofas, and even on the 
tables and wardrobes, to obtain a better sight of the patient. The 
uproar was great. The heat became intense ; the queen fainted. 
The king himself dashed at the windows, which were firmly 
closed, and by an unusual effort of strength tore down the fasten- 
ings and admitted air into the room. The crowd was driven out, 
but Marie Antoinette continued insensible ; and the moment was 
so critical that the physician had recourse to his lancet, and open- 
ed a vein in her foot. As the blood came she revived. The king 
himself came to her side, and announced to her that she was the 
mother of a daughter. 

It can hardly be said that the hopes of the nation, or of the 
king himself, had been fully realized, since it was an heir to the 
throne, a dauphin, that had been universally hoped for. But in 
the general joy that was felt at the queen's safety the disappoint- 
ment of this hope was disregarded, and the little princess, Madame 
Royale, as she was called from her birth, was received by the still 
loyal people in the same spirit as that in which Anne Boleyn's 
lady in waiting had announced to Henry VIII. the birth of her 
" fair young maid :" 

'■'■ King Henry. Now by thy looks 

I guess thy message. Is the queen deUvered ? 
Say ay ; and of a boy. 

''Lady. Ay, ay, my liege, 

And of a lovely boy. The God of Heaven 
Both now and ever bless her. 'Tis a girl, 
Promises boys hereafter." 

And a month before the empress had expressed a similar sen- 
timent : " I trust," she wrote to her daughter in November, " that 
God will grant me the comfort of knowing that you are safely 
delivered. Every thing else is a matter of indifference. Boys 
will come after girls."* And the same feeling was shared by the 

* Arneth, iii., p. 270. 



GENERAL REJOICINGS. 157 

Parisians in general, and embodied by M. Imbert, a courtly poet, 
whose odes were greatly in vogue in the fashionable circles, in an 
epigram which was set to music and sung in the theatres. 

" Pour toi, France, un dauphin doit naitre, 
Une Princesse vieut pour en etre temoin, 
Sitot qu'on voit une grace paraitre, 
Croyez que I'amour n'est pas loin."* 

Marie Antoinette herself was scarcely disappointed at all. When 
the attendants brought her her babe, she pressed it to her bosom. 
" Poor little thing," said she, " you are not what was desired, but 
you shall not be the less dear to me. A son would have belong- 
ed to the State ; you will be my own : you shall have all my care, 
you shall share my happiness and sweeten my vexations."f 

The Count de Provence made no secret of his joy. He was 
still heir presumptive to the throne. And, though no one shared 
his feelings on the subject, for the next few weeks the whole 
kingdom, and especially the capital, was absorbed in public re- 
joicings. Her own thankfulness was displayed by Marie Antoi- 
nette in her usual way, by acts of benevolence. She sent large 
sums of money to the prisons to release poor debtors ; she gave 
dowries to a hundred poor maidens ; she applied to the chief of- 
ficers of both army and navy to recommend her veterans worthy 
of especial reward ; and to the curates of the metropolitan par- 
ishes to point out to her any deserving objects of charity ; and 
she also settled pensions on a number of poor children who were 
born on the same day as the princess ; one of whom, who owed 
her education to this grateful and royal liberality, became after- 
ward known to every visitor of Paris as Madame Mars, the most 
accomplished of comic actresses.J 

One portion of the rejoicings was marked by a curious inci- 
dent, in which the same body whose right to a special place of 
honor at ceremonies connected with the personal happiness of 
the royal family we have already seen admitted — the ladies of 
the fish-market — again asserted their pretensions with triumphant 
success. On Christmas-eve the theatres were opened gratuitous- 
ly, but these ladies, who, with their friends, the coal-heavers, se- 
lected the most aristocratic theatre. La Comedie Fran§aise, for 
the honor of their visit, arrived with aristocratic unpunctuality, 

* Madame de Campan, eh. ix. f Ibid., ch. ix. \ Chambrier, i., p. 394. 



158 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

so late that the guards stopped them at the doors, declaring that 
the house was full, and that there M^as not a seat vacant. They 
declared that in any event room must be made for them. " Who 
were in the boxes of the king and queen ? for on such occasions 
those places were theirs of right." Even they, however, were 
full, and the guards demurred to the ladies' claim to be consid- 
ered, though for this night only, as the representatives of royalty, 
and to have the existing occupants of the seats demanded turned 
out to make room for them. The box-keeper and the manager 
were sent for. The registers of the house confirmed the validity 
of the claim by former precedents, and a compromise was at last 
effected. Rows of benches were placed on each side of the stage 
itself. Those on the right were allotted to the coal-heavers as 
representatives of Louis ; the ladies of the fish-market sat on the 
left as the deputies of Marie Antoinette. Before the play was 
allowed to begin, his majesty the king of the coal-heavers read 
the bulletin of the day announcing the rapid progress of the 
queen toward recovery ; and then, giving his hand to the queen 
of the fish -wives, the august pair, followed by their respective 
suites, executed a dance expressive of their delight at the good 
news, and then resumed their seats, and listened to Voltaire's 
"Zaire" with the most edifying gravity.* It was evident that 
in some things there was already enough, and rather more than 
enough, of that equality the unreasonable and unpractical passion 
for which proved, a few years later, the most pregnant cause of 
immeasurable misery to the whole nation. 

But the demonstration most in accordance with the queen's 
own taste was that which took place a few weeks later, when she 
went in a state procession to the great national cathedral of No- 
tre Dame to return thanks ; one most interesting part of the cere- 
mony being the weddings of the hundred young couples to whom 
she had given dowries, who also received a silver medal to com- 
memorate the day. The gayety of the spectacle, since they, 
with the formal witnesses of their marriage, filled a great part of 
the antechapel ; and the blessings invoked on the queen's head as 
she left the cathedral by the prisoners whom she had released, 
and by the poor whose destitution she had relieved, made so great 
an impression on the spectators, that even the highest dignitaries 

" * Marie Antoinette, Louis XVI., et la Famille Koyale," p. 147, December 
24th, \11%. 



VIVACITY OF THE KINO. 159 

of tlie court added their cheers and applause to those of the pop- 
ulace who escorted her coach to the gates on its return to Ver- 
sailles. 

She was now, for the first time since her arrival in France, 
really and entirely happy, without one vexation or one forebod- 
ing of evil. The king's attachment to her was rendered, if not 
deeper than before, at least far more lively and demonstrative by 
the birth of his daughter; his delight carrying him at times to 
most unaccustomed ebullitions of gayety. On the last Sunday 
of the carnival, he even went alone with the queen to the masked 
opera ball, and was highly amused at finding that not one of the 
company recognized either him or her. He even proposed to re- 
peat his visit on Shrove-Tuesday ; but when the evening came he 
changed his mind, and insisted on the queen's going by herself 
with one of her ladies, and the change of plan led to an incident 
which at the time afforded great amusement to Marie Antoinette, 
though it afterward proved a great annoyance, as furnishing a 
pretext for malicious stories and scandal. To preserve her inco- 
gnito, a private carriage was hired for her, which broke down in 
the street close by a silk-mercer's shop. As the queen was al- 
ready masked, the shop-men did not know her, and, at the request 
of the lady who attended her, stopped for her the first hackney- 
coach which passed, and in that unroyal vehicle, such as certainly 
no sovereign of France had ever set foot in before, she at last 
reached the theatre. As before, no one recognized her, and she 
might have enjoyed the scene and returned to Versailles in the 
most absolute secrecy, had not her sense of the fun of a queen 
using such a conveyance overpowered her wish for concealment, 
so that when, in the course of the evening, she met one or two 
persons of distinction whom she knew, she could not forbear tell- 
ing them who she was, and that she had come in a hackney-coach. 

Her health seemed less delicate than it had been before her 
confinement. But in the spring she was attacked by the measles, 
and her illness, slight as it was, gave occasion to a curious passage 
in court history. The fear of infection was always great at Ver- 
sailles, and, as the king himself and some of the ladies had never 
had the complaint, they were excluded from her room. But that 
she might not be left without attendants, four nobles of the court, 
the Duke de Coigny, the Duke de Guines, the Count Esterhazy, 
and the Baron de Besenval, in something of the old spirit of chiv- 
alry, devoted themselves to her service, and solicited permission to 



160 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

watch, by her bedside till she recovered. As has been already 
seen, the bed-chamber and dressing-room of a queen of France had 
never been guarded from intrusion with the jealousy which pro- 
tects the apartments of ladies in other countries, so that the pro- 
posal was less startling than it would have been considered else- 
where, while the number of nurses removed all pretext for scan- 
dal. Louis willingly gave the required permission, being appar- 
ently flattered by the solicitude exhibited for his queen's health. 
And each morning at seven the sick-watchers* took their seats in 
the queen's chamber, sharing with the Countess of Provence, the 
Princesse de Lamballe, and the Count d'Artois the task of keep- 
ing order and quiet in the sick-room till eleven at night. Though 
there was no scandal, there was plenty of jesting at so novel an 
arrangement. Wags proposed that in the case of the king being 
taken ill, a list should be prepared of the ladies who should tend 
his sick-bed. However, the champions were not long on duty : 
at the end of little more than a week their patient was convales- 
cent. She herself took off the sentence of banishment which she 
had pronounced against the king in a brief and affectionate note, 
which said " that she had suffered a great deal, but what she had 
felt most was to be for so many days deprived of the pleasure of 
embracing him." And the temporary separation seemed to have 
but increased their mutual affection for each other. 

The Trianon was now more than ever delightful to her. The 
new plantations, which contained no fewer than eight hundred dif- 
ferent kinds of trees, rich with every variety of foliage, were be- 
ginning, by their effectiveness, to give evidence of the taste with 
which they had been laid out ; while with a charity which could 
not bear to keep her blessings wholly to herself, she had set apart 
one corner of the grounds for a row of picturesque cottages, in 
which she had established a number of pensioners whom age or 
infirmity had rendered destitute, and whom she constantly visited 
with presents from her dairy or her fruit-trees. Roaming about 
the lawns and walks, which she had made herself, in a muslin 
gown and a plain straw hat, she could forget that she was a queen. 
She did not suspect that the intriguers, who from time to time 
maligned her most innocent actions, were misrepresenting even 
these simple and natural pleasures, and whispering in their secret 
cabals that her very dress was a proof that she still clung as res- 

* Gm'de-malades was the name given to them. 



HER ANXIETIES ABOUT THE WAR. 161 

olutely as ever to her Austrian preferences; that she discarded 
her silk gowns because they were the work of French manufact- 
urers, while they were her brother's Flemish subjects who supplied 
her with muslins. 

But, far beyond her plantations and her flowers, her child was 
to her a source of unceasing delight. She could be carried by 
her side about the garden a great part of the day. For, as in her 
anticipations and preparations she had told her mother long be- 
fore, French parents kept their children as much as possible in 
the open air,* a fashion which fully accorded with her own no- 
tions of what was best calculated to give an infant health and 
strength. And before the babe was five months old,f she flat- 
tered herself that it already distinguished her from its nurses. 
That nothing might be wanting to her comfort, peace was re-es- 
tablished between Austria and Prussia ; and if at this time the war 
with England did make her in some degree uneasy, she yet felt 
a sanguine anticipation of triumph for the French arms, in the 
event of a battle between the hostile fleets; a result of which, 
when the antagonists did come within sight of each other, it ap- 
peared that the French and Spanish admirals felt far less confi- 
dent. Her anxieties and hopes are vividly set forth in a letter 
which, in the course of the summer, she wrote to her mother, 
which is also singularly interesting from its self-examination, and 
from the substantial proof it supplies of the correctness of those 
anticipations which were based on the salutary effect which her 
novel position as a mother might be expected to have upon her 
character. 

" Versailles, August 16th. 

" My dearest Mother, — I can not find language to express to 
my dear mamma my thanks for her two letters, and for the kind- 
ness with which she expresses her willingness to exert herself to 
the utmost to procure us peace.J It is true that that would be a 
great happiness, and my heart desires it more than any thing in 
the world ; but, unhappily, I do not see any appearance of it at 

* " Du moment qu'ils [les enfants] peuvent etre k I'air on les y accoutume 
petit k petit, et ils finissent par y etre presque toujours ; je crois que c'est la 
maniere la plus saine et la meilleure des les elever." 

f Letter of Marie Antoinette to Maria Teresa, May 15th, lYVO, Arneth, iii., 
p. 311. 

\ Maria Teresa had offered the mediation of the empire to restore peace 
between England and France. 

11 



162 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

present. Every thing depends on the moment. Our fleets, the 
French and Spanish, being now united, we have a considerable su- 
periority.* 

'' They are now in the Channel ; and I can not without great 
agitation reflect that at any instant the whole fate of the war may 
be decided. I am also terrified at the approach of September, 
when the sea is no longer practicable. In short, it is only on 
the bosom of my dearest mamma that I lay aside all my disquiet. 
God grant that it may be groundless, but her kindness encourages 
me to speak to her as I think. The king is touched, quite as he 
should be, with all the service you so kindly propose to render 
him ; and I do not doubt that he will be always eager to profit 
by it, rather than to deliver himself up to the intrigues of those 
who have so frequently deceived France, and whom we must re- 
gard as our natural enemies. 

" My health is completely re-established. I am going to resume 
my ordinary way of life, and consequently I hope soon to be able 
to announce to my dearest mother fresh news. such as that of last 
year. She may feel quite re-assured now as to my behavior. I 
feel too strongly the necessity of having more children to be care- 
less in that. If I have formerly done amiss, it was my youth 
and my levity ; but now my head is thoroughly steadied, and 
you may reckon confidently on my properly feeling all my duties. 
Besides that, I owe such conduct to the king as a reward for his 
tenderness, and, I will venture to say it, his confidence in me, for 
which I can only praise him more and more. 

" . . . . I venture to send my dear mamma the picture of my 
daughter : it is very like her. The dear little thing begins to 
walk very well in her leading-strings. She has been able to say 
" papa " for some days. Her teeth have not yet come through, 
but we can feel them all. I am very glad that her first word has 

* Spain had recently entered into the alliance against England in the hope 
of recovering Gibraltar. And just at the date of this letter the combined 
fleet of sixty-six sail of the line sailed into the Channel, while a French army 
of 50,000 men was waiting at St. Malo to invade England so soon as the Brit- 
ish Channel fleet should have been defeated ; but, though Sir Charles Hardy 
had only forty sail under his orders, D'Orvilliers and his Spanish colleague 
retreated before him, and at the beginning of September, from fear of the equi- 
noctial gales, of which the queen here speaks with such alarm, retired to their 
own harbors, without even venturing to come to action with a foe of scarcely 
two-thirds of their own strength. See the author's " History of the British 
Navy," ch. xiv. 



HER INFLUENCE ON PUBLIC AFFAIRS. 163 

been her father's name. It is one more tie for him. He behaves 
to me most admirably, and nothing could be wanting to make 
me love him more. My dear mamma will forgive my twaddling 
about the little one ; but she is so kind that sometimes I abuse 
her kindness." 

It was well for Marie Antoinette's happiness that her husband 
was one in whom, as we have seen that she told her mother, she 
could feel entire confidence, for during her seclusion in the mea- 
sles the intriguers of the court had ventured to try and work 
upon him. Mercy had reason to suspect that some were even 
wicked enough to desire to influence him against his wife by the 
same means by which the Duke de Richelieu had formerly alien- 
ated his grandfather from Marie Leczinska; and the queen her- 
self received proof positive that Maurepas, in spite of her civili- 
ties to him and his countess, had become jealous of her political 
influence, and had endeavored to prevent his consulting her on 
public affairs. But all manoeuvres intended to disturb the con- 
jugal felicity of the royal pair were harmless against the honest 
fidelity of the king, the graceful affection of the queen, and the 
firm confidence of each in the other. The people generally felt 
that the influence which it was now notorious that the queen did 
exert on public affairs was a salutary one ; and great satisfaction 
was expressed when it became known in the autumn that the usual 
visit to Fontainebleau was given up, partly as being costly, and 
therefore undesirable while the nation had need to concentrate 
all its resources on the effective prosecution of the war, and part- 
ly that the king might be always within reach of his ministers 
in the event of any intelligence of importance arriving which re- 
quired prompt decision. 

Her letters to her mother at this time show how entirely her 
whole attention was engrossed by the war ; and, at the same time, 
with what wise earnestness she desired the re-establishment of 
peace. Even some gleams of success which had attended the 
French arms in the West Indies, where the Marquis de Bouille, 
the most skillful soldier of whom France at that time could boast, 
took one or two of the British islands, and the Count d'Estaing, 
whose fleet of thirty-six sail was for a short time far superior to 
the English force in that quarter, captured one or two more, did 
not diminish her eagerness for a cessation of the war. Though 
it is curious to see that she had become so deeply imbued with 
the principles of statesmanship with which M. Necker, the present 



164 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

financial minister, was seeking to inspire the nation, that her ob- 
jections to the continuance of the war turned chiefly on the de- 
o-ree in which it affected the revenue and expenditure of the king- 
dom. She evidently sympathizes in the disappointment which, 
as she reports to the empress, is generally felt by the public at 
the mismanagement of the admiral, M. d'Orvilliers, who, with 
forces so superior to those of the English, has neither been able 
to fall in with them so as to give them battle, nor to hinder any 
of their merchantmen from reaching their harbors in safety. As 
it is, he will have spent a great deal of money in doing nothing."* 
And a month later she repeats the complaints.f " The king and 
she have renounced the journey to Fontainebleau because of the 
expenses of the war ; and also that they may be in the way to re- 
ceive earlier intelligence from the army. But the fleet has not 
been able to fall in with the English, and has done nothing at all. 
It is a campaign lost, and one which has cost a great deal of mon- 
ey. What is still more afflicting is, that disease has broken out 
on board the ships, and has caused great havoc ; and the dysen- 
tery, which is raging as an epidemic in Brittany and Normandy, 
has attacked the land force also, which was intended to embark 
for England I greatly fear," she proceeds, " that these mis- 
fortunes of ours will render the English difficult to treat with, and 
may prevent proposals of peace, of which I see no immediate 
prospect. I am constantly persuaded that if the king should re- 
quire a mediation, the intrigues of the King of Prussia will fail, 
and will not prevent the king from availing himself of the offers 
of my dear mamma. I shall take care never to lose sight of this 
object, which is of such interest to the whole happiness of my 
life." So full is her mind of the war, that four or flve words in 
each letter to report that " her daughter is in perfect health," or 
that " she has cut four teeth," are all that she can spare for that 
subject, generally of such engrossing interest to herself and the 
empress ; while, before the end of the year, we find her taking 
even the domestic troubles of England into her calculations,^ and 
speculating on the degree in which the aspect of affairs in Ireland 
may affect the great preparations which the English ministers are 
making for the next campaign. 

The mere habit of devoting so much consideration to affairs of 

* Letter of September 15th. f Letter of October 14th. 

X Letter of November 16th. 



SHE STUDIES POLITICS. 165 

this kind was beneficial as tending to mature and develop her 
capacity. She was rapidly learning to take large views of polit- 
ical questions, even if they were not always correct. And the 
acuteness and earnestness of her comments on them daily in- 
creased her influence over both the king and the ministers, so that 
in the course of the autumn Mercy could assure the empress* 
that " the king's complaisance toward her increased every day," 
that " he made it his study to anticipate all her wishes, and that 
this attention showed itself in every kind of detail," while Maure- 
pas also was unable to conceal from himself that her voice always 
prevailed " in every case in which she chose to exert a decisive 
will," and accordingly " bent himself very prudently " before a 
power which he had no means of resisting. So solicitous indeed 
did the whole council show itself to please her, that when the 
king, who was aware that her allowance, in spite of its recent in- 
crease, was insufficient to defray the charges to which she was 
liable, proposed to double it, Necker himself, with all his zeal for 
economy and retrenchment, eagerly embraced the suggestion ; and 
its adoption gave the queen a fresh opportunity of strengthening the 
esteem and affection of the nation, by declaring that while the war 
lasted she would only accept half the sum thus placed at her disposal. 

The continuance of the war was not without its effect on the 
gayety of the court, from the number of officers whom their mil- 
itary duties detained with their regiments ; but the quiet was bene- 
ficial to Marie Antoinette, whose health was again becoming deli- 
cate, so much so, that after a grand drawing-room which she held 
on New-year's-eve, and which was attended by nearly two hun- 
dred of the chief ladies of the city, she was completely knocked 
up, and forced to put herself under the care of her physician. 

Meanwhile the war became more formidable. The English 
admiral, Rodney, the greatest sailor who, as yet, had ever com- 
manded a British fleet, in the middle of January utterly destroy- 
ed a strong Spanish squadron off Cape St. Vincent ; and as from 
the coast of Spain he proceeded to the West Indies, the French 
ministry had ample reason to be alarmed for the safety of the 
force which they had in those regions. It was evident that it 
would require every effort that could be made to enable their 
sailors to maintain the contest against an antagonist so brave and 
so skillful. And, as one of the first steps toward such a result, 

* Letter of Xovember 17th. 



166 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

Necker obtained the king's consent to a great reform in the ex- 
penditure of the court and in the civil service ; and to the aboli- 
tion of a great number of costly sinecures. We may be able to 
form some idea of the prodigality which had hitherto wasted the 
revenues of the country, from the circumstance that a single edict 
suppressed above four hundred offices ; and Marie Antoinette was 
so sincere in her desire to promote such measures, that she speaks 
warmly in their praise to her mother, even though they greatly 
curtailed her power of gratifying her own favorites. 

" The king," she says, " has just issued an edict which is as yet 
only the forerunner of a reform which he designs to make both 
in his own household and in mine. If it be carried out, it will be 
a great benefit, not only for the economy which it will introduce, 
but still more for its agreement' with public opinion, and for the 
satisfaction it will give the nation." It is impossible for any lan- 
guage to show more completely how, above all things, she made 
the good of the country her first object. And she was the more 
inclined to approve of all that was being done in this way from 
her conviction that Necker was both honest and able ; an opinion 
which she shared with, if she had not learned it from, her mother 
and her brother, and which was to some extent justified by the 
comparative order which he had re-established in the finance of 
the country, and by the degree in which he had revived public 
credit. She was not aware that the real dangers of the situation 
had a source deeper than any financial diflficulty, a fact which 
Necker himself was unable to comprehend. And she could not 
foresee, when it became necessary to grapple with those dangers, 
how unequal to the struggle the great banker would be found. 

It may, perhaps, be inferred that she did suspect Necker of 
some deficiency in the higher qualities of statesmanship when, in 
the spring of 1780, she told her mother that " she would give ev- 
ery thing in the world to have a Prince Kaunitz in the minis- 
try ;* but that such men were rare, and were only to be found by 
those who, like the empress herself, had the sagacity to discover 
and the judgment to appreciate such merit." She was, however, 
shutting her eyes to the fact that her husband had had a minister 
far superior to Kaunitz ; and that she herself had lent her aid to 
drive him from his service. 

* Kaunitz had been the prime minister of the empress, who negotiated the 
alliances with France and Russia, which were the preparations for the Seven 
Years' War. 



ANGLOMANIA IN PARIS. 167 



CHAPTER Xy. 

Anglomania in Paris. — The Winter at Versailles. — Hunting. — Private The- 
atricals. — Death of Prince Charles of Lorraine. — Successes of the English 
in America. — Education of the Due d'Angouleme. — Libelous Attacks on 
the Queen. — Death of the Empress. — Favor shown to some of the Swe- 
dish Nobles. — The Count de Fersen. — Necker retires from OfBce. — His 
Character. 

It is curious, wliile the resources of the kingdom were so se- 
verely taxed to maintain the war against England, of which every 
succeeding dispatch from the seat of war showed more and more 
the imprudence, to read in Mercy's correspondence accounts of 
the Anglomania which still subsisted in Paris ; surpassing that 
which the letters of the empress describe as reigning in Vienna, 
though it did not show itself now in quite the same manner as a 
year or two before, in the aping of English vices, gambling at 
races, and hard drinking, but rather in a copying of the fashions 
of men's dress ; in the introduction of top-boots ; and, very whole- 
somely, in the adoption of a country life by many of the great 
nobles, in imitation of the English gentry ; so that, for the first 
time since the coronation of Louis XIV., the great territorial lords 
began to spend a considerable part of the year on their estates, 
and no longer to think the interests and requirements of their 
tenants and dependents beneath their notice. 

The winter of 1779 and the spring of 1780 passed very happi- 
ly. If Versailles, from the reasons mentioned above, was not as 
crowded as in former years, it was very lively. The season was 
unusually mild ; the hunting was scarcely ever interrupted, and 
Marie Antoinette, who now made it a rule to accompany her hus- 
band on every possible occasion, sometimes did not return from 
the hunt till the night was far advanced, and found her health 
much benefited by the habit of spending the greater part of even 
a winter's day in the open air. Her garden, too, which daily oc- 
cupied more and more of her attention, as it increased in beauty, 
had the same tendency ; and her anxiety to profit by the experi- 
ence of others on one occasion inflicted a whimsical disappoint- 



168 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

ment on the free-thinkers of the court. The profligate and senti- 
mental infidel Rousseau had died a couple of years before, and 
had been buried at Ermenonville, in the park of the Count de 
Girardin. In the course of the summer the queen drove over to 
Ermenonville, and the admirers of the versatile vv^riter flattered 
themselves that her object was to pay a visit of homage to the 
shrine of their idol ; but they were greatly mortified to find that, 
though his tomb was pointed out to her, she took no further no- 
tice of it than such as consisted of a passing remark that it was 
very neat, and very prettily placed ; and that what had attracted 
her curiosity was the English garden which the count had recent- 
ly laid out at a great expense, and from which she had been led 
to expect that she might derive some hints for the further im- 
provement of her own Little Trianon. 

She had not yet entirely given up her desire for novelty in her 
amusements ; and she began now to establish private theatricals 
at Versailles, choosing light comedies interspersed with song, and 
with but few characters, the male parts being filled by the Count 
d'Artois and some of the most distinguished oflficers of the house- 
hold, while she hei-self took one of the female parts ; the specta- 
tors being confined to the royal family and those nobles whose 
posts entitled them to immediate attendance on the king and 
queen. She was so anxious to perform her own part well, though 
she did not take any of the principal characters, but preferred to 
act the waiting-woman rather than the mistress, that she placed 
herself under the tuition of Michu, a professional actor of reputa- 
tion from one of the Parisian theatres ; but, though the audience 
was far too courtly to greet her appearance on the stage without 
vociferous applause, the preponderance of evidence must lead us 
to believe that her majesty was not a good actress.* And per- 
haps we may think that as the parts which she selected required 
rather an arch pertness than the grace and majesty which were 
more natural to her, so, also, they were not altogether in keeping 
with the stately dignity which queens should never wholly lay 
aside. 

It was well, however, that she should have amusements to 
cheer her, for the year was destined to bring her heavy troubles 



* " On assure que sa majeste ne joue pas bien ; ce que personne, except^ 
le roi, n'a ose lui dire. Au contraire, on I'applaudit a tout rompre." — Marie 
Antoinette, Louis XVI. et la Famille Royale, p. 203, date September 28th, 1780. 



EVENTS OF THE WAR. 169 

before its close : losses in her own family, which would be felt 
with terrible heaviness by her affectionate disposition, were im- 
pending over her ; while the news from America, where the En- 
glish army at this time was achieving triumphs which seemed 
likely to have a decisive influence on the result of the war, caused 
her great anxiety. How great, a letter which she wrote to her 
mother in July affords a striking proof. In June, when she 
heard of the dangerous illness of her uncle, Prince Charles of 
Lorraine, now Governor of the Low Countries, formerly the gal- 
lant antagonist of Frederick of Prussia, she declared that *' the 
intelligence overwhelmed her with an agitation and grief such 
as she had never before experienced," and she lamented with evi- 
dently deep and genuine distress the threatened extinction of 
the male line of the house of Lorraine. But before she Avrote 
again, the news of Sir Henry Clinton's exploits in Carolina had 
arrived, and, though almost the same post informed her of the 
prince's death, the sorrow which that bereavement awakened in 
her mind was scarcely allowed, even in its first freshness, an equal 
share of her lamentations with the more absorbing importance of 
the events of the campaign beyond the Atlantic. 

" My dearest Mother, — I wrote to you the moment that I 
received the sad intelligence of my uncle's death ; though, as the 
Brussels courier had already started, I fear my letter may have 
arrived rather late. I will not venture to say more on the subject, 
lest I should be reopening a sorrow for which you have so much 
cause to grieve The capture of Charleston* is a most disas- 
trous event, both for the facilities it will afford the English and 
for the encouragement which it will give to their pride. It is 
perhaps still more serious because of the miserable defense made 
by the Americans. One can hope nothing from such bad troops." 

It is curious to contrast the angry jealousy which she here be- 
trays of our disposition and policy as a nation, with the partiali- 
ty which, as we have seen, she showed for the agreeable qualities 
of individual Englishmen. But her uneasiness on this subject 
led to practical results, by inducing her to add her influence to 
that of a party which was discontented with the ministry ; and 
was especially laboring to persuade the king to make a change in 

* In May, 1780, Sir Henry Clinton took Charleston, with a great number of 
prisoners, a great quantity of stores, and four hundred guns. — Lord Stan- 
hope's History of England, eh. Ixii. 



170 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

the War Department, and to dismiss the Prince de Montbarey, 
whose sole recommendation for the oflBce of secretary of state 
seemed to be that he was a friend of the prime minister, and to 
give his place to the Count de Segur, The change was made, as 
any change was sure to be made in favor of which she personal- 
ly exerted hei'self ; even the partisans of M. de Maurepas himself 
were forced to allow that the new minister was in every respect 
far superior to his predecessor ; and Mercy was desirous that she 
should procure the dismissal of Maurepas also, thinking it of 
great importance to her own comfort that the prime minister 
should be bound to her interests. 

But she was far more anxious on other subjects. Nearly two 
years had now elapsed since the birth'of the princess royal ; and 
there was as yet no prospect of a companion to her, so that the 
Count d'Artois began to make arrangements for the education of 
his infant son, the Due d'Augouleme, with a premature solicitude, 
which was evidently designed to point the child out to the nation 
as its future sovereign.* The queen was greatly annoyed; and, 
to add to her vexation, one of the teething illnessef< to which 
children are subject at this time threw the little princee s into con- 
vulsions, which, to a mother's anxiety, seemed even dangerous to 
her life ; though in a day or two that apprehension passed away. 

But these hopes of D'Artois and his flatterers again filled the 
court with intrigues. In the course of the summer she as made 
highly indignant by finding that news from the court, ^,ith ma- 
licious comments, were sent from Paris across the frontier to be 
printed at Deux-Ponts or Diisseldorf, and then circulatf^ ^ ' Paris 
and in Vienna ; and it was difiicult to avoid connecting \[ -, libels 
with those who in the palace itself were manifestly building hopes 
on the diminution of her influence and the disparagement of her 
character. 

But this and all other vexations were presently thrown into the 
shade by a great grief, the more difficult to bear because t was 
wholly unexpected by her — the death of her mother. ' real- 
ity, Maria Teresa had been unwell for some time ; but me sus- 
picions of the serious character of her complaint, which she se- 
cretly entertained, she had never revealed to Marie Antoinette ; 

* " Cette disposition a ete faite deux ans plutot que ne le comporte I'usage 
etabli pour les enfants de France." — Mercy to Maria Teresa, October 14th, 
Arneth, iii., p. 4*76. 



DEATH OF MARIA TERESA. iVl 

and at last the end followed too quickly on the first appearance 
of danger to allow time for any preparatory warnings to be re- 
ceived at Versailles before the fatal intelligence arrived. On the 
24th of November she was taken ill in a manner which excited 
the alarm of her physicians, but her family felt no apprehensions. 
Even on the 27th, the emperor felt so sanguine that the cough 
which seemed her most distressing symptom was but temporary, 
that it was with the greatest unwillingness that he consented to 
her receiving the communion, as the physicians recommended; 
but the next day even he was forced to acquiesce in the hopeless 
view which they took of their patient; and on the 29th she died, 
after having borne sufferings, which for the last three days had 
been of the most painful character, with the same heroism with 
which, in her earlier life, she had struggled against griefs of a 
different kind. 

The dispatch announcing her death was brought to the king; 
and it is characteristic of his timid disposition that he could not 
nerve himself to communicate it to his wife, but suppressed all 
merytion oi it during the evening ; and in the morning summoned 
the Abb&fde Vermond, and employed him to break the news to 
her, reserving for himself the less painful task of approaching 
her with words of affectionate consolation after the first shock 
was over. For a time, however, she was almost overwhelmed 
with So -row. She attempted to write to her brother, but after a 
few lin^s she closed the letter, declaring that her tears prevented 
her froiii seeing the paper ; and those about her found that for 
some *"T=e she could bear no other topic of conversation than the 
coura rp^iue wisdom, the greatness of her mother, and, above all, 
her Wi*.rm affection for herself and for all her other children.* 

WitJ} the death of the empress we lose the aid of Mercy's cor- 
respc ice, which has afforded such invaluable service in the light 
it has . turown on the peculiarities of Marie Antoinette's position, 
and ;rL)!, gradual development of her character during the earlier 
year y f her residence in France. We shall again obtain light 
from t fiG same source of almost greater importance, when the still 
more terrible dangers of the Revolution rendered the queen more 
dependent than ever on his counsels. But for the next few years 
we shall be compelled to content ourselves with scantier materials 
than have been furnished by the empress's unceasing interest in 

* Madame de Campan, ch. ix. 



172 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

her daughter's welfare, and the embassador's faithful and candid 
reports. 

The death of Maria Teresa naturally closed the court of her 
daughter against all gayeties during the spring of 1781. Still, 
one of the taxes which princes pay for their grandeur is the force 
which, at times, they are compelled to put upon their inclinations, 
when they dispense with that retirement which their own feelings 
would render acceptable ; and, after a few weeks of seclusion, a 
few guests began to be admitted to the royal supper-table, among 
whom, as a very extraordinary favor, were some Swedish nobles ;* 
one of whom, the Count de Stedingk, had established a claim to 
the royal favor by serving, with several of his countrymen, as a 
volunteer in the Count d'Estaing's fleet in the West Indies. Such 
service was highly esteemed by both king and queen, since Louis, 
though he had been unwillingly dragged into the war by the am- 
bition of the Count de Vergennes and the popular enthusiasm, 
naturally, when once engaged in it, took as vivid an interest in the 
prowess of his forces as if he had never been troubled with any 
misgivings as to the policy which had set them in motion ; and 
Marie Antoinette was at all times excited to enthusiasm by any 
deed of valor, and, as we have seen, took an especial interest in 
the achievements of the navy. 

The King of Sweden, the chivalrous Gustavus III., had already 
made the acquaintance of Louis and Marie Antoinette in a short 
visit which he had paid to France the year after their marriage ; 
and the queen now wrote to him in warm praise of M. de Ste- 
dingk, and all his countrymen who had come under her notice, 
while the king rewarded the count's valor and the Avounds which 
had been incurred in its exhibition by an order of knighthood,f 
and the more substantial gift of a pension. But the Swede who 
soon outran all his compatriots in the race for the royal favor of 
both king and queen was the Count Axel de Fersen, a descendant, 
it was believed, of one of the Scotch ofiicers of the great Macpher- 
son clan, who, in the stormy times of the Thirty Years' War, had 
sought fame and fortune under the banner of Gustavus Adolphus. 
The beauty of his countess was celebrated throughout both Swe- 
den and France, and his own Avas but little inferior to it. If she 

* " Gustave III. et la Cour de Frauce," i., p. 849. 

f An order known as that " du Merite " had been recently distributed for 
foreign Protestant officers, whose religion prevented them from taking the 
oath required of the Knights of the Grand Order of St. Louis. 



SWEDISH NOBLES AT THE COURT. l73 

was known as " The Rose of the North," his name was rarely 
mentioned without the addition of " The handsome." He was a 
perfect master of all noble and knightly accomplishments, and 
was also distinguished for a certain high-souled and romantic* 
enthusiasm, which lent a tinge to all his conversation and de- 
meanor ; and this combination won for him the marked favor of 
Marie Antoinette. The calumniators, whom the condition and 
prospects of the royal family made more busy than ever at this 
time, insinuated that he had touched her heart; but those who 
knew best the manners of life and characters of both denounced 
it as the vilest of libels. The count's was a loyal attachment, do- 
ing nothing but honor to him who felt it, and to the queen who 
inspired it ; and it was marked by a permanence which distin- 
guishes no devotion but that which is pure and noble, as he show- 
ed ten years later by the well-planned and courageous, though un- 
successful, efforts which he made for the deliverance of the queen 
and all her family. 

That Marie Antoinette, who from early youth had shown an in- 
tuitive accuracy of judgment in her estimate of character, should, 
from the very first, honorably distinguish a man capable of such 
devotion to her service was not unnatural ; but there was another 
circumstance in his favor, which he shared with the other foreign 
nobles, English and German, who in these years were well received 
by the queen. Their disinterestedness presented a striking con- 
trast to the rapacity of the French. Every French noble valued 
the court only for what he could obtain from it. Even Madame 
de Polignac, whom the queen specially honored with the title of 
her friend, exhibited an all-grasping covetousness, of Avhich, with 
all her efforts to shut her eyes to it, Marie Antoinette could not 
be unconscious ; and her perception of the difference between her 
French and her foreign courtiers was marked by herself in a few 
words, when the Comte de la Marck, who was himself of foreign 
extraction, ventured once to recommend to her greater caution in 
her display of liking for the foreign nobles, as what might excite the 
jealousy of the French ;f and she replied that "he might be right, 
but the foreigners were the only people who asked her for nothing." 

Meanwhile, the war went on in America ; the colonists them- 

* "Sa figure et son air convenaient parfaitement h un heros de roman, 
mais non pas d'un roman fran9ais ; il n'en avait ni le brillant ni la leg^rete." 
— Souvenirs et Portraits, par M. de Levis, p. 130. 

f " La Marck et Mirabeau," p. 32. 



174 LIFE OP MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

selves were making but little, if any, progress, and tlie French con- 
tingent were certainly reaping no honor, M. de La Fayette, the 
only officer who came in contact with a British force, showing no 
military skill or capacity, and not even much courage. But in 
the course of the spring France sustained a far heavier loss than 
even the defeat of an army could have inflicted on her, in the re- 
tirement of Necker from the ministry. As a statesman, he was 
certainly not entitled to any very high rank. He had neither ex- 
tensive knowledge, nor large views, nor firmness ; the only project 
of constitutional reform which he had brought forward had been 
but a mutilated and imperfect copy of the system devised by the 
original and statesman - like daring of Turgot. At a subsequent 
period he proved himself incapable of discerning the true charac- 
ter of the circumstances which surrounded him, and wholly igno- 
rant of the feelings of the nation, and of the principles and ob- 
jects of those who aspired to take a lead in its councils. But 
as yet his financial policy had undoubtedly been successful. He 
had greatly relieved the general distress, he had maintained the 
public credit, and he had inspired the nation with confidence in 
itself, and other countries also with confidence in its resources; 
but he had made many and powerful enemies by the retrench- 
ments which had been a necessary part of his system. As early 
as the spring of 1780, Mercy had reported to the empress that 
both the king's brothers and the Due d'Orleans complained that 
some of his measures infringed upon their established rights; 
that the Count d'Artois had had a very stormy discussion with 
Necker himself, and, when he could neither convince nor overbear 
him, had tried, though unsuccessfully, to enlist the queen against 
him. The count had since employed the controller of his own 
household, M. Boutourlin, to write pamphlets against him, and, in 
point of fact, many of the most elaborate details of a financial state- 
ment which Necker had recently published were very ill-calculated 
to endure a strict scrutiny ; but M. Boutourlin did his work so bad- 
ly that Necker had no difficulty in repelling him, and for a moment 
seemed the stronger for the attack that had been made upon him. 
He had been so far right in his estimate of his position that he 
could rely on the support of the queen, who was aware that both 
her mother and her brother had a high opinion of his integrity ; 
but though the king also had from time to time given his cordial 
sanction to his different measures, it was not in the nature of 
Louis to withstand repeated pressure and solicitation. Necker, 



INTRIGUES OF THE COUNT D'AETOIS. 175 

too, himself unintentionally played into the hands of his enemies. 
He had nominally only a subordinate position in the ministry. 
As he was a Protestant, Louis had feared to offend the clergy by 
giving him a seat in the council, or the title of comptroller-general ; 
but had conferred that post on M. Taboureau des Reaux, making 
Necker director of the treasury under him. The real manage- 
ment of the exchequer was, however, placed wholly in his hands ; 
and, as he was one of the vainest of men, he had gradually as- 
sumed a tone of importance as if his were the paramount influ- 
ence in the Government ; going so far as even to open negotia- 
tions with foreign statesmen to Avhich none of his colleagues were 
privy.* It was not strange that he was not very well satisfied 
with a position which seemed as if it had been contrived in order 
to keep him out of sight, and to deprive him of the credit belong- 
ing to his financial successes ; but hitherto he had been satisfied 
to bide his time. Now, however, his triumph over M. Boutourlin 
seemed to him so to have established his supremacy as to entitle 
him to insist on a promotion which should be a public recogni- 
tion of his position as the real minister of finance, and as entitled 
to a preponderating voice in all matters of general policy. He 
accordingly demanded admission to the council, and, on its being 
refused, at once resigned his office. 

The consternation was universal ; the general public had grad- 
ually learned to place such confidence in him that they looked on 
his loss as irreparable. Some even of the princes who had origi- 
nally striven to prepossess the king against him either changed 
their minds or feared to show their disagreement with the com- 
mon feeling. And Marie Antoinette, who fully shared his views 
as to the primary importance of finance in all questions of gov- 
ernment, condescended to admit him to an interview; requested 
him, as a personal favor to herself, to recall his resignation, urging 
upon him that patience would surely in time procure him all that 
he asked; and, in her honest earnestness for the welfare of the 
nation, wept Avhen he withdrew without having yielded to her so- 
licitations. It was late in the evening and dark when he took his 
leave, and afterward, when he was told that he had drawn tears 
from her eyes by his refusal, he said that, had he seen them, he 
should have submitted to a wish so enforced, even at the sacrifice 
of his own comfort and reputation. 

* See his letter to Lord North proposing peace, date December 1st, 1780. 
Lord Stanhope's "History of England," vol. vii., Appendix, p. 13. 



176 LIFE OF 3IARIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

The Queen expects to be confined again. — Increasing Unpopularity of the 
King's Brothers. — Birth of the Dauphin. — Festivities. — Deputations from 
the Different Trades. — Songs of the Dames de la Halle. — Ball given by the 
Body-guard. — Unwavering Fidelity of the Regiment. — The Queen offers up 
her Thanksgiving at Notre Dame. — Banquet at the Hotel de Ville. — Re- 
joicings in Paris. 

How irreparable his loss was, was shown by the rapid succes- 
sion of finance ministers who, in the course of the next seven 
years, successively held the office of comptroller-general. All were 
equally incompetent, and under their administration, sometimes 
merely incapable, sometimes combining recklessness and corrup- 
tion with incapacity, the treasury again became exhausted, the re- 
sources of the nation dwindled away, and the distress of all but 
the wealthiest classes became more and more insupportable. But 
for a time the attention of Marie Antoinette was drawn off from 
political embarrassments by the event which alone seemed want- 
ing to complete her personal happiness, and to place her position 
and popularity on an impregnable foundation. 

In the spring she discovered that she was again about to be- 
come a mother. The whole nation expected the result with an 
intense anxiety. The king's brothers were daily becoming more 
and more deservedly unpopular. The Count d'Artois, who as 
the father of a son, occupied more of the general attention than 
his elder brother, seemed to take pains to parade his contempt 
for the commercial class, and still more for the lower orders, and 
his disapproval of every proposal which had for its object to con- 
ciliate the traders or to relieve the sufferings of the poor ; while 
the Count de Provence openly established a mistress, the Countess 
de Balbi, at the Luxembourg Palace, his residence in the capital, 
where she presided over the receptions which he took upon him- 
self to hold, to the exclusion of his lawful princess. The Count- 
ess de Provence was not well calculated to excite admiration or 
sympathy, since she was plain and ungracious. But Madame de 
Balbi, whose character had been disgracefully notorious even be- 



BIRTH OF THE DAUPHIN. 177 

fore her connection witli the count, was not more attractive in ap- 
pearance or manner than the Savoy princess ; and the citizens of 
Paris, who in this instance faithfully represented the feelings of 
the entire nation, did not disguise their anxiety that the child 
about to be born should be a prince, who might extinguish the 
hopes and projects of both his uncles. 

Their wishes were gratified. On the morning of the 2 2d of 
October the king was starting from the palace on a hunting ex- 
pedition with his brothers, when it was announced to him that 
the queen was taken ill.* He at once returned to her room, and, 
mindful of the danger which she had incurred on the occasion of 
the birth of Madame Royale from the greatness and disorder of 
the crowd, he broke through the ancient custom, and ordered that 
the doors should be closed, and that no one should be admitted 
beyond a very small number of the great officers, male and fe- 
male, of the household. His cares were rewarded by a compar- 
atively easy birth ; and his anxiety to protect his wife from agi- 
tation was further shown by a second arrangement, which was 
perhaps hardly so easy to carry out, but which was also perfectly 
successful. As was most natural, the queen and himself fully 
shared the ardent wishes of the nation that the expected child 
should prove an heir to the throne ; and he consequently feared 
that, should it not be so, the disappointment might produce an 
injurious effect on the mother's health ; or, should their hopes be 
realized, that the excessive joy might be equally dangerous. With 
a desire, therefore, to avoid exposing her to either shock in the 
first moments of weakness, he forbade any announcement of the 
sex of the child being made to any one but himself. The in- 
stant that the child was born, he hastened to the bedside to judge 
for himself whether she could bear the news. Presently she came 
to herself; and it seemed to her that the general silence indicated 
that she had become the mother of a second daughter. But she 
desired to be assured of the fact. " See," said she to Louis, 
" how reasonable I am. I ask no questions."! And Louis, who 
from joy was scarcely able to contain himself, seeing her freedom 
from agitation, thought he might safely reveal to her the whole 
extent of their happiness. He called out, so as to be heard by 
the Princess de Guimenee, who still held the post of governess to 

* " Gustave III. et la Cour de France," i., p. 357. 
f Chambrier, i., p. 430 ; " Gustave III.," etc., i., p. 353. 
12 



178 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

the royal children, and who had already exhibited the child to the 
witnesses in the antechamber, and was now awaiting his sum- 
mons at the open door, " My lord the dauphin begs to be admit- 
ted." The Princess de Guimenee brought " my lord the dauphin" 
to his mother's arms, and for a few minutes the small company in 
the room gazed in respectful silence while the father and mother 
mingled tears of joy with broken words of thanksgiving. 

Yet even in this moment of exultation Marie Antoinette could 
not forget her first-born, nor the feelings which had made her 
rejoice at the birth of a daughter, who still had, as it were, no ri- 
val in her eyes, because no rival claim to her own could be set up 
with respect to a princess. She kissed the long-wished-for infant 
over and over again ; pressed him fondly to her heart ; and then, 
after she had perused each feature with anxious scrutiny, and 
pointed out some resemblances, such as mothers see, to his father, 
" Take him," said she, to Madame de Guimenee ; " he belongs to 
the State ; but my daughter is still mine."* 

Presently the chamber was cleared ; and in a few minutes the 
glad tidings were carried to every corner of the palace and town 
of Versailles, and, as speedily as expresses could gallop, to the 
anxious city of Paris. By a somewhat whimsical coincidence, the 
Count de Stedingk, who, from having been one of the intended 
hunting-party, had been admitted into the antechamber, rushing 
down-stairs in his haste to spread the intelligence, met the Count- 
ess de Provence on the staircase. " It is a dauphin, madame," he 
cried ; " what a happy event !" The countess made him no re- 
ply. Nor did she or her husband pretend to disguise their mor- 
tification. . The Count d'Artois was a little less open in the dis- 
play of his discontent, which was, however, sufiiciently notorious. 
But, with these exceptions, all France, or at least all France sufii- 
ciently near the court to feel any personal interest in its concerns, 
was unanimous in its exultation. 

As soon as the new-born child was dressed, his father took him 
in his arms, and, carrying him to the window, showed him to the 
crowdf which, on the first news of the queen's illness, had throng- 
ed the court-yard, and was waiting in breathless expectation the 
result. A rumor had already begun to penetrate the throng that 
the child was a son, and the moment that the happy tidings were 
confirmed, and the infant — their future king, as they undoubting- 

* Gustave III.," etc., i., p. 353. f " Memoires de Weber," i., p. 50. 



GENERAL REJOICINGS. 179 

ly hailed him — was presented to their view, their joy broke forth 
in such vociferous acclamations that it became necessary to si- 
lence them by an appeal to them to show consideration for the 
mother's weakness. 

For the next three months all was joy and festivity. When 
the little Due d'Angouleme, now a sprightly boy of six years old, 
was taken into the nursery to see, or, in the court language, to 
pay his homage to, the heir to the throne, he said to his father, 
as he left the room, " Papa, how little my cousin is !" " The day 
will come, my boy," replied the count, " when you will find him 
quite great enough." And it seemed as if the whole nation, and 
especially the city of Paris, thought no celebration of the birth of 
its future king could be too sumptuous for his greatness. It was 
a real heart-felt joy that was awakened in the people. On the day 
following the birth, chroniclers of the time remarked that no oth- 
er subject was spoken of; that even strangers stopped one an- 
other in the streets to exchange congratulations.* 

The different trades and guilds led the way in the expression of 
these loyal felicitations. When his royal highness was a week 
old, he held a grand reception. Deputations from different bod- 
ies of artisans, each with a band of music at its head, and each 
carrying some emblem of its occupation, marched in a long pro- 
cession to Versailles. The chimney-sweeps bore aloft a chimney 
entwined with garlands, on the top of which was perched one of 
the smallest of their boys ; the chairmen carried a chair superbly 
gilt, on which sat in state a representative of the royal nurse, with 
a child in her arms in royal robes ; the butchers drove a fat ox ; 
the pastry-cooks bore on a splendid tray a variety of pastry and 
sweetmeats such as might tempt children of a larger growth than 
the little prince they had come to honor; the blacksmiths beat 
an anvil in time to their cheers ; the shoe-makers brought a pair 
of miniature boots ; the tailors had devoted elaborate and minute 
pains to the embroidering of a uniform of the dauphin's regi- 
ment, such as might even now fit its young colonel, if his parents 
would permit him to be attired in it. The crowd was too great 
to be received in even the largest saloon of the palace ; but it 
filled the court-yard beneath ; and, as the weather was luckily fa- 
vorable, the dauphin was brought to the balcony and displayed to 

* " On s'arretait dans les rues, on se parlait sans se connaitre." — Madame 
DE Campan, ch. ix. 



180 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

the people, -while they greeted him with cheers, which were re- 
newed from time to time, even after he had been withdrawn, till 
the shouting seemed as if it would have no end. 

One deputation, consisting of members of the fairer sex, re- 
ceived even higher honors. Fifty ladies of the fish-market vindi- 
cated the long-acknowledged claims of their body by forming a 
separate procession. Each dame was dressed in a gown of rich 
black silk, their established court-dress, and nearly every one had 
diamond ornaments. To them, the celebrated antechamber, from 
the oval window at the end known as the Bull's Eye, was open- 
ed ;* and three of their body were admitted even into the queen's 
room, and io the side of the bed. The popular poet La Harpe, 
whom the partiality of Voltaire had designated as the heir of his 
genius, had composed an address, which the spokeswoman of the 
party had written out on the back of her fan, and now read with 
a sweet voice, which had procured her the honor of being so se- 
lected,! ^^^ '^ith very appropriate delivery. The queen made a 
brief but most gracious answer, and then, on their retirement, the 
whole company, with a train of fish-women of the lower class, was 
entertained at a grand banquet, which they enlivened with songs 
composed for the occasion. One of them so hit the fancy of the 
king and queen that they quoted it more than once in their let- 
ters to their correspondents, and Marie Antoinette even sung it 
occasionally to her harp : 

" Ne craignez pas, 
Cher papa, 

D' voir augmeiiter vot' famille, 
Le Bon Dieu z'y pourvoira : 
Fait's en tant qu' Versailles en fourmille 

Y eut-il cent Bourbons chez nous, 

Y a du pain, du laurier pour tons." 

The body-guard celebrated the auspicious event by giving a 
grand ball in the concert-room of the palace to the queen on her 
recovery ; it was attended by the whole coui"t, and Marie Antoi- 
nette opened it herself, dancing a~Kiijiuet with one of the troop, 
whom his comrades had selected for the honor, and whom the 
king promoted, as a memorial of the occasion and as a testimony 
of his approval of the loyalty of that gallant regiment. 

* L'CEil de Bceuf. 

f Madame de Campan, ch. ix. ; " Marie Antoinette, Louis XII., et la Famille 
Royale," p. 238. 



PUBLIC THANKSGIVING AFTER FESTIVITIES. 181 

Amidst all the troubles of later years, the fidelity of those noble 
troops never wavered. They had even in xjne hour of terrible 
danger the honor, in the same palace, of saving the life of their 
queen. But it is a melancholy proof of the fleeting character 
and instability of popular favor which is supplied by the recol- 
lection that these very artisans who were now so vociferous, and 
undoubtedly at this moment so sincere in their profession of loy- 
alty, were afterward her foul and ferocious enemies. And yet be- 
tween 1781 and 1789 there had been no change in the character 
or conduct of the king and queen, or rather, it may be said, the 
intervening years had been a period during which a countless se- 
ries of acts of beneficence had displayed their unceasing affection 
for their subjects. 

The festivities were crowned in the most appropriate manner 
by a public thanksgiving, offered by the queen herself to Heaven 
for the gift of a son, and for her own recovery. But that cele- 
bration was necessarily postponed till her strength was entirely 
re-established ; and it was not till the 21st of January that the 
physicians would allow her to encounter the excitement of so in- 
teresting but fatiguing a day. The court had ,quit Versailles for 
La Muette the day before, to be nearer the city ; and on the ap- 
pointed morning, which the watchers for omens delightedly re- 
marked as one of midsummer brilliancy,* the most superb pro- 
cession that even Paris had ever witnessed issued from the gates 
of the old hunting-lodge, whose earlier occupants had been ani- 
mated by a very different spirit, f 

That the honors of the day might be wholly the queen's, Louis 
himself did not accompany her, but followed her three hours 
later, to meet her at the Hotel de Ville. Nineteen coaches, glit- 
tering with burnished gold, and every panel of which was embel- 
lished with crowns, wreaths, or allegorical pictures, marching on 
at a stately walk toward the city gate, conveyed the queen, radi- 
ant with beauty and happiness, the sisters and aunts of the king, 
the long train of her and their ladies, and all the great officers of 

* " Un soleil d'ete." — Weber, i., p. 53. 

•f- La Muette derived its name from les mues of the deer who were reared 
there. It had been enlarged by the Regent d'Orleans, who gave it to his 
daughter, the Duchess de Berri ; and it was the frequent scene of the orgies 
of that infamous father and daughter, while more recently it had been known 
as the Pare aux Cerfs, under which title it had acquired a still more infamous 
reputation. 



182 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

her household. Squadrons of the body-guard furnished the es- 
cort, ridino- in front of the queen's carriage and behind it, but not 
on either side, she herself having forbidden any arrangement which 
mio-ht intercept the full sight of herself from a single citizen. 
Companies of other regiments awaited the procession at different 
points, and closed up behind it as it passed, swelling the vast train 
which thus grew at every step. An additional escort, almost an 
army in itself, in double rank, lined the whole road from the bar- 
rier of the Champs Elysees to the gates of the great cathedral; 
and, as the royal coach passed through the city gate, a herald 
proclaimed that " The king wishing to consecrate by fresh acts of 
kindness the happy moment when God showered his mercies on 
him by the birth of a dauphin, and at the same time to give to 
the inhabitants of his good city of Paris some special mark of his 
beneficence, granted an exemption from the poll-tax to all the 
burgesses, traders, and artisans who were not in such circumstances 
as made the payment easy." 

The proclamation was received with all the thankfulness of 
surprise ; the cheers, which had never ceased from the moment 
that the procession first came in sight, were redoubled, and it was 
amidst shouts of congratulation both to themselves and to her 
that the queen proceeded onward to Notre Dame. Having paid 
her vows and made her offerings in the cathedral of the nation, 
she passed on to the Church of Ste. Genevieve, the especial pa- 
troness of the city, and repeated her thanksgiving before the tomb 
of Clovis, the founder of the monarchy. At the Hotel de Ville 
she was met by the king, with the princess, his brothers, the great 
officers of his household, and the ministers ; and there (after hav- 
ing first come forward on the balcony to afford the multitude, 
who completely filled the vast square in front of the building, a 
sight of their sovereigns), the royal pair, sitting side by side, pre- 
sided at a banquet of unsurpassed magnificence and luxury. In 
compliance with the strictest laws of the old etiquette, none but 
ladies were admitted to the king's table, but other tables were 
provided for the male guests. The most renowned musicians 
performed the sweetest airs, but the melodies of Gluck and Gre- 
try were drowned in the cheers of the multitude outside, who 
thus relieved their irnpatience for the re - appearance of their 
queen. 

The banquet was succeeded by a grand reception, with its sin- 



THE ILLUMINATIONS. 183 

gular but invariable accompaniment of a gaming-table,* and the 
whole was concluded by a grand illumination and display of fire- 
works, in which the pyrotechnists had exhausted their allegoric- 
al ingenuity. A Temple of Hymen occupied the centime, and the 
God of Marriage — never, so far as present appearances indicated, 
more auspiciously employed — presented to France the precious in- 
fant who was the most recent fruit of his favor ; while the flame 
upon his altar, which never had burned with a brighter light, was 
fed by the thank-offerings of the whole French people. As each 
new feature of the display burst upon their eyes, the acclamations 
of the populace redoubled, and their enthusiasm was kindled to 
the utmost pitch when Louis and Marie Antoinette descended the 
stairs, and, arm-in-arm, walked out among the crowd, ostensibly to 
see the illuminations from the different points which presented 
the most imposing spectacle ; but really, as the citizens perceived, 
to show their sympathy with the joy of the, people by mingling 
with the multitude, and thus allowing all to approach and even 
to accost them ; while they, and especially the queen, replied to 
every loyal cheer or homely word of congratulation by a cordial 
smile or expression of approval or thanks, which long dwelt in 
the memory of those to whom they were addressed. 

* " Aprfes le diner il y eut appartement jeu, et la fete fut terminee par un 
feu d'artifice." — Weber, i., p. b^, from whom the greater part of those de- 
tails are taken. For the etiquette of the "jeu," see Madame de Campan, 
ch. ix., p. 11, and 2 ed. 1858. 



184 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XVII. ; 

Madame de Guimenee resigns the Office of Governess of the Royal Children, 
— Madame de Polignac succeeds her. — Marie Antomette's Views of Educa- 
tion. — Character of Madame Royale. — The Grand Duiie Paul and his Grand 
Duchess visit the French Court. — Their Characters. — Entertainments given 
in their Honor. — Insolence of the Cardinal de Rohan. -^His Character and 
previous Life. — Grand Festivities at Chantilly. — Events of the War. — Rod- 
ney defeats de Grasse. — The Siege of Gibraltar fails.^^M. de Suffrein fights 
five Drawn Battles with Sir E. Hughes in the Indian Seas. — The Queen re-- 
ceives him with great Honor on his Return. 

The post of governess to the royal children was one which was 
conferred for life, and did not even cease on the accession of a 
new sovereign, and the birth of a new royal family. Madame de 
Guimenee, therefore, having been appointed to that office on the 
birth of the first child of the late dauphin, the father of Louis 
XVI., still retained it, and on the birth of Madame Royale trans- 
ferred her services to that princess. The arrangement had been 
far from acceptable to Marie Antoinette, who had no great lik- 
ing for the lady, though, with her habitual kindness of disposition, 
she had accepted her attentions, and had often condescended to 
appear as a guest at her evening parties, taking only the precau- 
tion of ascertaining beforehand whom she was likely to meet 
there.* But, in the spring of 1782, the Prince de Guimenee be- 
came involved in pecuniary difficulties that compelled him to re- 
tire from the court, and his princess to resign her appointment, 
which Marie Antoinette at once bestowed on Madame de Poli- 
gnac. Her attachment to that lady affords a striking exemplifica- 
tion of one feature in her character, a steady adherence to friend- 
ships once formed, which can never be otherwise than amiable, 
even when, as it may be thought was the case in this and one or 
two other instances, she carried it to excess ; for she could hardly 
fail to be aware that Madame de Polignac was most unpopular 
with all classes, and that her unpopularity was not undeserved. 
She was covetous for herself, and she had a number of relations. 



* Mercy to Maria Teresa, June 18th, 1780, Arneth iii., p. 440. 



HER EDUCATION OF HER CHILDREN. 185 

equally rapacious, who regarded her court favor solely as a means 
of enriching the whole family. She had procured a valuable re- 
version for her husband ; and subsequently the rare favor of an 
hereditary dukedom ; and it was characteristic of her disposition 
that she might have attained the rank of duchess for herself at an 
earlier date, but that she preferred to it the chance of other fa- 
vors of a more practically useful nature ; nor was it till she had 
received such sums of money that nothing more could well be 
asked, that she turned her ambition to titles, and to the much-cov- 
eted dignity of a stool to sit upon in the presence of royalty.* 

But the more people spoke ill of her, the more the queen pro- 
tected her; and if she received the resignation of Madame de 
Guimenee with pleasure, much of her joy seemed to be owing to 
the opportunity which it afforded her of promoting the new duch- 
ess to the vacant place, while Madame de Polignac had even the 
address to persuade her that she accepted the post unwillingly, 
and, in undertaking it, was making a sacrifice to loyalty and 
friendship. But if the queen was duped on that point, she was 
not deceived on others. She knew that the duchess had no quali- 
fications for the office ; that she was neither clever nor accomplish- 
ed. But her absence of any special qualifications was, in fact, her 
best recommendation in the eyes of her patroness ; for Marie An- 
toinette had high ideas of the duty which a mother owes to her 
children. She thought herself bound to take upon herself the 
real superintendence of their education, and, having this view, she 
preferred a governess who would be content that her children's 
minds should receive their color from herself. Her own idea of 
education, as we shall see it hereafter described by herself, f was 
that example was more powerful than precept, and that love was 
a better teacher than fear ; and, acting on this principle, from the 
moment that her little daughter was old enough to comprehend 
her intentions and wishes, she began to make her her companion ; 
abandoning, or at least relaxing, her pursuit of other pleasures for 
that which was now her chief delight, as well as in her eyes her 
chief duty — the task of watching over the early promise, the 
opening talents and virtues of those who were destined, as she 
hoped, to have a predominant influence on the future welfare of 
the nation. Especially she made a rule of taking the little prin- 

* Le tabouret. See St. Simon. 

\ See infra, the queen's letter to Madame de Tourzel, date July 25th, 1*789. 



186 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

cess with her on the different errands of humanity and benevo- 
lence, which, wherever she might be, and more particularly while 
she was at Versailles, formed an almost habitual part of her occu- 
pations. She saw that much of the distress which now seemed 
to be the normal condition of the humbler classes, and much of 
the discontent, which was felt by all classes but the highest, were 
caused by the pride of the princes and nobles, who, in France, 
drew a far more rigorous and unbending line of demarkation be- 
tween themselves and their inferiors than prevailed in other coun- 
tries ; and she desired from their earliest infancy to imbue her 
children with a different principle, and to teach them by her own 
example that none could be so lowly as to be beneath the notice 
even of a sovereign ; and that, on the contrary, the greater the de- 
pression of the poor, the greater claim did it give them on the so- 
licitude and protection of their princes and rulers. 

Nor were these lessons, which even worldly policy might have 
dictated, the only ones which she sought to inculcate on the little 
princess before the more exciting pursuits of society should have 
rendered her less susceptible to good impressions. Unfriendly as 
her husband's aunts had always been to herself, and little as there 
was that was really amiable in their characters, there was yet one, 
the Princess Louise, the Nun of St. Denis, whose renunciation of 
the world seemed to point her out to her family as a model of ho- 
liness and devotion ; and as, above all things, Marie Antoinette de- 
sired to inspire her little daughter with a deep sense of religious 
obligation, she soon began to take her with her in all her visits to 
the convent, and to encourage her to converse with the other Sis- 
ters of the house. Nor did she abandon the practice even Avhen 
it was suggested to her that such an intercourse with those who 
were notoriously always on the watch to attract recruits of rank 
or consideration, might have the result of inclining the child to 
follow her great-aunt's example ; and perhaps, by renouncing the 
world, to counteract plans which her parents might have prefer- 
red for her establishment in life. Marie Antoinette declared that 
should the princess express such a desire, far from being annoyed, 
" she should feel flattered by it ;"* she would, it may be presumed, 
have regarded it as a convincing testimony of the soundness of 
her own system of education, and of the purity of the instruction 
which she had given. 

* " Souvenirs de Quarante Ans," by Mademoiselle de Tourzel, p. 20. 



THE OB AND DUKE AND THE GRAND DUCHESS. 187 

But such was not to be the destiny of her whose life at this 
moment seemed to beam with prospects of happiness which it 
would have been cruel to allow her to exchange for the gloom 
of a convent, though, even before she arrived at womanhood, the 
most austere seclusion of such an abode would have seemed a 
welcome asylum from dangers yet undreamed of. Her destiny 
was indeed to be one of trials and afflictions even to the end ; tri- 
als very different in their kind from those which the gates of the 
Carmelite sisterhood would have opened to her. But her moth- 
er's early lessons of humility and piety, and still more her moth- 
er's virtuous and heroic example, never ceased to bear their fruit 
in their influence on her character, amidst all the vicissitudes of 
fortune. The unhappy daughter,* as she was styled by the faith- 
ful and eloquent champion of her race, lived to win the respect 
even of its enemies,f supplying, at more than one critical moment, 
a courage and decision of which her male relatives were destitute ; 
and, in the second and final ruin of her house, her fortitude and 
resignation still commanded the loyal adherence of a large party 
among her countrymen, and the esteem of foreign statesmen, who 
gladly recognized in her no small portion of the nobility of her 
female ancestors. 

In the spring of 1782 the attention of the Parisians was occu- 
pied for a while by the arrival of two visitors from a nation which 
as yet had sent forth but few of its sons to mingle in society with 
those of other countries. The Grand Duke of Russia, who had in- 
deed been its rightful emperor ever since the murder of his father 
twenty years before, but who had been compelled to postpone his 
claims to those of his ambitious and unscrupulous mother, Cath- 
erine II., had conceived a desire so far to imitate the example of 
his great ancestor, the founder of the Russian empire, Peter the 
Great, as to make a personal investigation of the manners of other 
people besides his own. To use the language in which the em- 
press communicated to Louis XVI. her son's wish to pay him a 
visit, he sought, in the first instance, " to take lessons in courte- 
sy and nobility from the most elegant court in the world." And 
as Louis had responded with a cordial invitation to Versailles, at 
the end of May he, with his grand duchess, a princess of Wurtem- 
berg, arrived at the palace. 

* " Filia dolorosa." — Chateaubriand. 

f Napoleon, in 1814, called her the only man of her family. 



188 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

Paul had not as yet given any indications of the brutal and fe- 
rocious disposition which distinguished him in his later years, till 
it gradually developed into a savage insanity which neither his no- 
bles nor even his sons could endure. He appeared rather a young 
man of frank and open temper, somewhat more unguarded in his 
language, especially concerning his own affairs and position, than 
was quite prudent or becoming ; but kind in intention, sometimes 
even courteous in manner, shrewd in discerning what things and 
what persons were most worthy of his notice, and showing no 
deficiency of judgment in the observations which he made upon 
them. The grand duchess, however, was generally regarded as 
greatly superior to her husband in every respect. He was almost 
repulsive in his ugliness. She was extremely handsome in feature, 
though disfigured by a stoutness extraordinary in one so young. 
She had also a high reputation for accomplishments and general 
ability, though that too was disguised by a coldness or ungra- 
ciousness of manner that gave strangers a disagreeable impression 
of her ; which, however, a more intimate acquaintance greatly re- 
moved. 

Their characters had preceded them, and Marie Antoinette, for 
perhaps the first time in her life, felt very uneasy as to her own 
power of receiving them with the dignity which became both her 
and them. As she afterward explained her feelings to Madame 
de Campan, " she found the part of a queen much more difficult 
to play in the presence of other sovereigns, or of princes who were 
born to become sovereigns, than before ordinary courtiers."* She 
even fortified her courage before dinner with a glass of water, and 
the medicine proved effectual. Even if it cost her an effort to pre- 
serve her habitual gayety, her difficulty was unperceived, and, in- 
deed, after the few first moments, ceased to be a difficulty. Paul 
himself cared but little for female attractions or graces ; but the 
archduchess was charmed with her union of liveliness and dignity, 
which surpassed all her previous experiences of courts ; and one 
of her ladies, Madame d'Oberkirch, who has left behind her some 
memoirs, to which all succeeding writers have been indebted for 
many particulars of this visit, could scarcely find words to describe 
the impression the queen's beauty had made upon her and all her 
fellow-travelers. " The queen was marvelously beautiful ; she fas- 
cinated every eye. It was absolutely impossible for any one to 

* Madame de Campan, ch. x. 



THE CARDINAL BE ROHAN. 189 

display a greater grace and nobility of demeanor."* Madame 
d'Oberkirch, like herself, was German by birth ; and Marie Antoi- 
nette begged her to speak German to her, that she might refresh 
her recollection of her native language ; but she found that she 
had almost forgotten it. " Ah," said she, " German is a fine lan- 
guage ; but French, in the mouths of my children, seems to me 
the finest language in the world." And in the same spirit of en- 
tire adoption of French feelings, and even of French prejudices, 
she declared to the baroness that though the Rhine and the Dan- 
ube were both noble rivers, the Seine was so much more beauti- 
ful that it had made her forget them both. 

But her preference for every thing French did not make her 
neglect the duties of hospitality to her foreign visitors ; she wish- 
ed rather that they should carry with them as fixed an idea as 
she herself entertained of the superiority of France to their own 
country, in this as in every other particular. And she gave two 
magnificent entertainments in their honor at the Little Trianon, 
displaying the beauties of her garden by day, and also by night, 
by an illumination of extraordinary splendor. They were highly 
delighted with the beauty and the novelty of a scene such as they 
had never before witnessed ; but her pleasure was in a great de- 
gree marred by the indecent boldness of one whose sacred profes- 
sion, as well as his ancient lineage, ought to have restrained him 
from such misconduct, though it was but too completely in har- 
mony with his previous life. Prince Louis de Rohan was a de- 
scendant of the great Duke de Sully, and a member of a family 
which, during the last reign, had possessed an influence at court 
which was surpassed by that of no other house among the French 
nobles.f He himself had reaped the full advantage of its inter- 
est. As we have already seen, he had been coadjutor of Stras- 
burg when Marie Antoinette passed through that city on her way 
to France in 1770. He had subsequently been promoted to the 
rank of cardinal ; and, though he was notoriously devoid of ca- 
pacity, yet through the influence of his relations, and that of 
Madame du Barri, with whom they maintained an intimate con- 
nection, he had obtained the post of embassador to the court of 

* " Memoires de Madame d'Oberkirch," i., p. 279. 

f The Marshal Biince de Soubise, whose incapacity and cowardice caused 
the disgraceful rout of Rosbach, was the head of this family ; his sister, Ma- 
dame Marsan, as governess of the " children of France," had brought up 
Louis XVI. 



190 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

Vienna, where he had made himself conspicuous for every species 
of disorder. His whole life in the Austrian capital had been a 
round of shameless profligacy and extravagance. The conduct 
of the inferior members of the embassy, stimulated by his exam- 
ple, and protected by his official character, had been equally scan- 
dalous, till at last Maria Teresa had felt herself bound, in justice 
to her subjects, to insist on his recall. The moment that he be- 
came aware that his position was in danger, he began to write 
abusive letters against the Empress-queen, and to circulate libels 
at Vienna against both her and Marie Antoinette, on whom he 
openly threatened to avenge himself, if his pleasures or his pros- 
pects should in any way be interfered with.* 

Since his return to France he had had the address to conciliate 
Maurepas, who, adding the authority of his ministerial office to 
the solicitations of the cardinal's sister, Madame de Marsan, had 
succeeded in wringing from the unwilling king his appointment 
to the honorable and lucrative preferment of grand almoner. 
But even that post, though it made him one of the great officers 
of the court, did not weaken his desire to annoy the queen, for 
having, as he believed, used her influence to deprive him of his 
embassy, and for having by her marked coldness since his return 
from Vienna, showed her disapproval of his profligate character, 
and of his insolence to her mother. 

And, unhappily, there were not wanting persons base enough to 
co-operate with him, generally discredited as he was, as instru- 
ments of their own secret malice. The birth of the dauphin had 
been a fatal blow to the hopes which had been founded on the 
possible succession of the king's brothers ; and from this time 
forth the whisperers of detraction and calumny were more than 
ever busy, sometimes venturing to forge her handwriting, and 
sometimes daring, with still fouler audacity, to invent stories de- 
■ signed to tarnish her reputation by throwing doubts on her con- 
jugal fidelity. At such a moment the presence of such a man 
as the cardinal on the stage was an evil omen. His audacity, it 
seemed, could hardly be purposeless, and his purpose could not 
be innocent. 

He had been most anxious to obtain admission to one of the 

* " II [Rohan] a rneme menace, si on ne veut pas prendre le bon chemin 
qui lui indique, que ma fiUe s'en ressentira." — Marie-TJierese d Mercy, Am- 
gust 28th, 1'7'74, Arneth, ii., p. 226. 



UNWILLINGNESS TO BURDEN THE TREASURY. 191 

entertainments which the queen gave to the Russian princes ; 
and, when he was disappointed, he had the silly audacity to bribe 
the porter of the Trianon to admit him into the garden, where, 
as the royal party passed down the different walks, he thrust him- 
self ostentatiously at different points into their sight, professing 
to disguise himself by throwing a mantle over his shoulders, but 
taking care that his scarlet stockings should prevent any uncer- 
tainty from being felt as to his identity. That he should have 
presumed to intrude into the queen's presence in her own palace 
without permission was in itself an insult ; but those behind the 
scenes believed that he had a deeper design, and that he wished 
to diffuse a belief that Marie Antoinette secretly regarded him 
with a favor which she was unwilling to show openly, and that 
he had not obtained admission to her garden without her con- 
nivance. 

The princes of the blood, too, the Prince de Conde and the 
Duke de Bourbon, invited Paul and his archduchess to an enter- 
tainment at Chantilly, which far surpassed in splendor the display 
at Trianon. But the queen was willing, on such an occasion, to 
be eclipsed by her subjects. " The princes," she said, " might 
well give festivities of vast cost, because they defrayed the charges 
out of their private revenues ; but the expenses of entertainments 
given by the king or by herself fell on the national treasury, of 
which they were bound to be the guardians in the interest of the 
poor tax-payers." 

Not that, in all probability, Paul and his archduchess noticed 
the inferiority. Court festivities at St. Petersburg were as yet 
neither numerous nor magnificent, and they soon showed them- 
selves so wearied with the round of gayety which had been forced 
upon them, that some of the diversions which had been projected 
at other royal palaces besides Versailles were given up to avoid 
distressing them.* The sight which pleased them most was the 
play, to which, at their own special request, the queen accompa- 
nied them, and where they were greatly struck by the magnificence 
of the theatre and every thing connected with the performance, 
as well as with the reception which the audience gave the queen. 
Much as they had admired what they had seen, it was her grace 

* " lis paraisseni^ excedes du grand monde et des fetes, qu'avec d'autres 
petites difficultes qui se sont elevees, nous avons decide qu'il n'y aurait rien 
k Marly." — Marie Antoinette to Mercy ; Marie Antoinette, Joseph II., and Leo- 
pold II., p. 27. 



192 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

and kind solicitude for their gratification which made the great- 
est impression on them ; and the archduchess kept up a cor- 
respondence with her during the rest of their travels, especially 
dwelling on the scenes which pleased her most in Germany, and 
on the persons she met who were known to and regarded by the 
queen. 

Political affairs were at this time causing Marie Antoinette 
great anxiety. One of her most frequently expressed wishes had 
been that the French fleet should have an opportunity of enga- 
ging that of England in a pitched battle, when the judicious care 
which M. de Sartines had bestowed on the marine would be seen 
to bear its fruit. But when the battle did take place, the result 
was such as to confound instead of justifying her patriotic expec- 
tations. In April, the English Admiral Rodney inflicted on the 
Count de Grasse a crushing defeat, off the coast of Jamaica. In 
September, the combined forces of France and Spain were beaten 
off with still heavier loss from the impregnable fortress of Gibral- 
tar ; and the only region in which a French admiral escaped disaster 
was the Indian Sea, where the Bailli de Suffrein, an officer of rare 
energy and ability, encountered the British admiral, Sir Edward 
Hughes, in a series of severe actions, and, except on one occasion 
in which he lost a few transports, never permitted his antagonist 
to claim any advantage over him ; the single loss which he sus- 
tained in his first combat being more than counterbalanced by his 
success on land, where, by the aid of Hyder All's son, the cele- 
brated Tippoo, he made himself master of Cuddalore ; and then, 
dropping down to the Cingalese coast, recaptured Trincomalee, 
the conquest of which had been one of Hughes's most recent 
achievements.* The queen felt the reverses keenly. She even 
curtailed some of her own expenses in order to contribute to the 
building of new ships to replace those which had been lost ; and 
she received M. de Suffrein, on his return from India at the con- 
clusion of the war, with the most sincere and marked congratula- 
tions. She invited him to the palace, and, when he arrived, she 
caused Madame de Polignac to bring both her children into the 
room. " My children," said she, " and especially you, my son, 

* " No fewer than five actions were fought in 1782, and the spring of 1*783, 
by these unwearied foes. De Suffrein's force was matfrially the stronger of 
the two ; it consisted of ten sail of the Hue, one fifty -gun ship, and four frig- 
ates ; while Sir E. Hughes had but eight sail of the line, a fifty-gun ship, and 
one frigate." See the author's " History of the British Navy," i., p. 400. 



M. BE SUFFREIN RECEIVED WITH HONOR. 193 

know that tliis is M. de Suffrein. We are all under the greatest 
obligations to him. Look well at him, and ever remember his 
name. It is one of the first that all my children must learn to 
pronounce, and one which they must never forget."* 

She was acting up to her mother's example, than whom no 
sovereign had better known how to give their due honor to brav- 
ery and loyalty. Such a queen deserved to have faithful friends ; 
and Sufirein was a man who, had his life been spared, might, like 
the Marquis de Bouille, have shown that even in France the feel- 
ings of chivalry and devotion to kings and ladies were not yet ex- 
tinguished. But he died before either his country or his queen 
had again need of his services, or before he had any opportunity 
of proving by fresh achievements his gratitude to a sovereign who 
knew so well how to appreciate and to honor merit. 

* Weber, i., p. '77. For the importance at this time attached to a reception 
at court, see Chateaubriand, " Memoires d'Outre-tombe," i., p. 221. 

13 



194 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Peace is re-established. — Embarrassments of the Ministry. — Distress of the 
Kingdom. — M. de Calonne becomes Finance Minister. — The Winter of 
l'783-'84 is very Severe. — The Queen devotes Large Sums to Charity. — Her 
Political Influence increases. — Correspondence between the Emperor and 
her on European Politics. — The State of France. — The Baron de Breteuil. — 
Her Description of the Character of the King. 

The conclusion of peace between France and England was one 
of tlie earliest events of the year 1783, but it brought no strength 
to the ministry ; or, rather, it placed its weakness in a more con- 
spicuous light. Maurepas had died at the end of 1781, and, since 
his death, the Count de Yergennes had been the chief adviser of 
the king ; but his attention was almost exclusively directed to the 
conduct of the diplomacy of the kingdom, and to its foreign af- 
fairs, and he made no pretensions to financial knowledge. Un- 
luckily the professed ministers of finance, Joly de Fleury and his 
successor, D'Ormesson, were as ignorant of that great subject as 
himself, and, within two years after Necker's retirement, their mis- 
management had brought the kingdom to the very verge of bank- 
ruptcy. D'Ormesson. was dismissed, and for many days it was 
anxiously deliberated in the palace by whom he should be re- 
placed. Some proposed that Necker should be recalled, but the 
king had felt himself personally offended by some circumstances 
which had attended the resignation of that minister two years be- 
fore. The queen inclined to favor the pretensions of Lomenie de 
Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse ; not because he had any official 
experience, but because fifteen years before he had recommended 
the Abbe de Vermond to Maria Teresa ; and the abbe, seeing in 
the present embarrassment an opportunity of repaying the obli- 
gation, now spoke highly to her of the archbishop's talents. But 
Madame de Polignac and her party persuaded her majesty to ac- 
quiesce in the appointment of M. de Calonne, a man who, like 
Turgot, had already distinguished himself as intendant of a prov- 
ince, though he had not inspired those who watched his career 
with as high an opinion of his uprightness as of his talents. He 



EMBABRASS3IENTS OF THE MINISTRY. 195 

had also secured the support of the Count d'Artois by promising 
to pay his debts; and Louis himself was won to think well of 
him by the confidence which he expressed in his own capacity to 
grapple with the existing, or even with still greater difiiculties. 

Nor, indeed, had he been possessed of steadiness, prudence, 
and principle, was he very unfit for such a post at such a time. 
For he was very fertile in resources, and well-endowed with both 
physical and moral courage ; but these faculties were combined 
with, were indeed the parents of, a mischievous defect. He had 
such reliance on his own ingenuity and ability to deal with each 
difiiculty or danger as it should arise, that he was indifferent to 
precautions which might prevent it from arising. The spirit 
in which he took office was exemplified in one of his first speech- 
es to the queen. Knowing that he was not the minister whom 
she would have preferred, he made it his especial business to win 
her confidence ; and he had not been long installed in office when 
she expressed to him her wish that he would find means of ac- 
complishing some object which she desired to promote. " Ma- 
dame," was his courtly reply, " if it is possible, it is done already. 
If it is impossible, I will take care and manage it." But, being 
very unscrupulous himself, he overshot his mark when he sought 
to propitiate her further by offering to represent as hers acts of 
charity which she had not performed. The winter of 1783 was 
one of unusual severity. The thermometer at Paris was, for some 
weeks, scarcely above zero ; scarcity, with its inevitable compan- 
ion, dearness of price, reduced the poor of the northern prov- 
inces, and especially of the capital and its neighborhood, to the 
verge of starvation. The king, queen, and princesses gave large 
sums from their privy purses for their relief ; but as such sup- 
plies were manifestly inadequate, Louis ordered the minister to 
draw three millions of francs from the treasury, and to apply 
them for the alleviation of the universal distress. Calonne cheer- 
fully received and executed the beneficent command. He was 
perhaps not sorry, at his first entrance on his duties, to show how 
easy it was for him to meet even an unforeseen demand of so 
heavy an amount ; and he fancied he saw in it a means of ingra- 
tiating himself with Marie Antoinette. He proposed to her that 
he should pay one of the millions to her treasurer, that that offi- 
cer might distribute it, in her name, as a gift from her own al- 
lowance ; but Marie Antoinette disdained such unworthy artifice. 
She would have felt ashamed to receive praise or gratitude to 



196 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

wliicli she was not entitled. She rejected the proposal, insisting 
that the king's gift should be attributed to himself alone, and ex- 
pressing her intention to add to it by curtailing her personal ex- 
penditure, by abridging her entertainments so long as the distress 
should last, and by dedicating the sums usually appropriated to 
pleasure and festivity to the relief of those whose very existence 
seemed to depend on the aid which it was her duty and that of 
the king to furnish. For there was this especial characteristic in 
Marie Antoinette's charity, that it did not proceed solely from 
kindness of heart and tenderness of disposition, though these 
were never wanting, but also from a settled principle of duty, 
which, in her opinion, imposed upon sovereigns, as a primary ob- 
ligation, the task of watching over the welfare of their subjects 
as persons intrusted by Providence to their care ; and such a feel- 
ing was obviously more to be depended upon as a constant mo- 
tive for action than the most vivid emotion of the moment, which, 
if easily excited, is not unfrequently as easily overpowered by 
some fresh object. 

Meanwhile events were gradually compelling her to take a 
more active part in politics. Maurepas had been jealous of her 
influence, and, while that old minister lived, Louis, who fi-om 
his childhood had been accustomed to see him in office, commit- 
ted almost every thing to his guidance. But, as he always re- 
quired some one of stronger mind than himself to lean upon, as 
soon as Maurepas was gone he turned to the queen. It was to 
her that he now chiefly confided his anxieties and perplexities; 
from her that he sought counsel and strength ; and the ministers 
naturally came to regard her as the real ruler of the State. Ac- 
cordingly, we find from her correspondence of this period that 
even such matters as the appointment of the embassadors to for- 
eign states were often referred to her decision ; and how greatly 
the habit of considering affairs of importance expanded her ca- 
pacity we may learn from the opinion which her brother, the em- 
peror, who Avas never disposed to flatter, or even to spare her, had 
evidently come to entertain of her judgment. In one long letter, 
written in September of the year 1783, he discussed with her the 
attitude which France had assumed toward Austria ever since the 
dismissal of Choiseul ; the willingness of her ministers to listen 
to Prussian calumnies ; the encouragement which they had given 
to the opposition in the empii-e ; and their obsequiousness to 
Prussia ; while Austria had not retaliated, as she had had many 



VIEWS OF TEE EMPEROR JOSEPH. 197 

opportunities of doing, by any complaisance toward England, 
though the English statesmen had made many advances toward 
her. It is a carious instance of fears being realized in a sense 
very different from that which troubled the writer at the moment, 
that among the acts of France of which, had he been inclined to 
be captious, he might justly have complained, he enumerates her 
recent acquisition of Corsica, as one which, "for a number of 
reasons, might be very prejudicial to the possessions of the house 
of Austria and its branches in Italy." It did indeed prove an 
acquisition which largely influenced the future history, not only 
of Austria, but of the whole world, when the little island, which 
hitherto had been but a hot-bed of disorder, and a battle-field of 
faction burdensome to its Genoese masters, gave a general to the 
armies of France whose most brilliant exploits were a succession 
of triumphs over the Austrian commanders in every part of the 
emperor's dominion. His letter concludes with warnings drawn 
from the present condition and views of the different states of 
Europe, and especially of France, whose "finances and resources, 
to speak with moderation, have been greatly strained" in the re- 
cent war ; embracing in their scope even the designs of Russia on 
the independence of Turkey ; and with a request that his sister 
would inform him frankly what he is to believe as to the opin- 
ions of the king ; and in what light he is to regard the recent 
letters of Vergennes, which, to his apprehension, show an indif- 
ference to the maintenance of the alliance between the two coun- 
tries.* 

It is altogether a letter such as might pass between statesmen, 
and proves clearly that Joseph regarded his sister now as one 
fully capable of taking large views of the situation of both coun- 
tries. And her answer shows that she fully enters into all the 
different questions which he has raised, though it also shows that 
she is guided by her heart as well as by her judgment ; still looks 
on the continuance of the friendship between her native and her 
adopted country as essential not only to her comfort, but even in 
some degree to her honor, and also that on that account she is de- 
sirous at times of exerting a greater influence than is always allow- 
ed her. 



* Joseph to Marie Antoinette, date September 9th, 1V83. — Marie Antoinette, 
Joseph IL, and Leopold II., p. 30, which, to save such a lengthened reference, 
will hereafter be referred to as "Arneth." 



198 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

"Versailles, September 29th, 1'783. 

" Shall I tell you, my dear brother, that your letter has delighted 
me by its energy and nobleness of thought ? and why should I not 
tell you so ? I am sure that you will never confound your sister 
and your friend with the tricks and manoeuvres of politicians. 

" I have read your letter to the king. You may be sure that it, 
like all your other letters, shall never go out of my hands. The 
king was struck with many of your reflections, and has even cor- 
roborated them himself. 

" He has said to me that he both desired and hoped always to 
maintain a friendship and a good understanding with the empire ; 
but yet that it was impossible to answer for it that the difference 
of interests might not at times lead to a difference in the way of 
looking at and judging of affairs. This idea appeared to me to 
come from himself alone, and from the distrust with which peo- 
ple have been inspiring him for a long time. For, when I spoke 
to him, I believe it to be certain that he had not seen M. de Ver- 
gennes since the arrival of your courier. M. de Mercy will have 
reported to you the quietness and gentleness with which this min- 
ister has spoken to him. I have had occasion to see that the heads 
of the other ministers, which were a little heated, have since cool- 
ed again. I trust that this quiet spirit will last, and in that case 
the firmness of your reply ought to lead to the rudeness of style 
which the people here adopted being forgotten. You know the 
ground and the characters, so you can not be surprised if the king 
sometimes allows answers to pass which he would not have given 
of his own accord. 

" My health, considering my present condition,* is perfect. I 
had a slight accident after my last letter ; but it produced no bad 
consequences : it only made a little more care necessary. Accord- 
ingly I shall go from Choisy to Fontainebleau by .water. My 
children are quite well. My boy will spend his time at La Mu- 
ette while we are absent. It is just a piece of stupidity of the 
doctors, who do not like him to take so long a journey at his age, 
though he has two teeth and is very strong. I should be perfect- 
ly happy if I were but assured of the general tranquillity, and, 
above all, of the happiness of my much-loved brother, whom I love 
with all my heart."f 

* She was again expecting a confinement ; but, as had happened between 
the birtli of Madame Royale and that of the dauphin, an accident disappoint- 
ed her hope, and her third child was not born till 1785. 

f Date September 29th, 1*783, Arneth, p. 35. 



CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE EMPEROR JOSEPH. 199 

Another letter, written three months later, explains to the em- 
peror the object of some of the new arrangements which Calonne 
had introduced, having for one object, among others, the facilita- 
tion of a commercial intercourse, especially in tobacco, with the 
United States. She hopes that another consequence of them will 
be the abolition of the whole system of farmers - general of the 
revenue ; and she explains to him both the advantages of such a 
measure, and at the same time the difficulties of carrying it out 
immediately after so costly a war, since it would involve the in- 
stant repayment of large sums to the farmers, with all the clear- 
ness of a practiced financier. She mentions also the appointment 
of the Baron de Breteuil as the new minister of the king's house- 
hold,* and her estimate of his character is rendered important by 
his promotion, six years later, to the post of prime minister. The 
emperor also had ample means of judging of it himself, since the 
baron had succeeded the Cardinal de Rohan as embassador at Vi- 
enna. " I think, with you, that he requires to be kept within 
bounds ; and he will be so more than other ministers by the nat- 
ure of his office, which is very limited, and entirely under the eyes 
of the king and of his colleagues, who will be glad of any oppor- 
tunities of mortifying his vanity. However, his activity will be 
very useful in a thousand details of a department which has been 
neglected and badly managed for the last sixty years." And 
though it is a slight anticipation of the order of our narrative, it 
will not be inconvenient to give here some extracts from a third 
letter to the same brother, written in the autumn of the following 
year, in which she describes the king's character, and points out 
the difficulties Avhich it often interposes to her desire of influen- 
cing his views and measures. 

It may perhaps be thought that she unconsciously underrates her 
influence over her husband, though there can be no doubt that he 
was one of those men whom it is hardest to manage ; wholly with- 
out self-reliance, yet Avith a scrupulous wish to do right that made 
him distrustful of others, even of those whose advice he sought, or 
whose judgment he most highly valued. 

"September 22d, 1784. 

" I will not contradict you, my dear brother, on what you say 
about the short-sightedness of our ministry. I have long ago 
made some of the reflections which you express in your letter. 

* Ministre de la maison du roi. 



200 LIFE OF 3IARIE ANTOINETTE. 

I have spoken on the subject more than once to the king ; but 
one must know him thoroughly to be able to judge of the extent 
to which his character and prejudices cripple my resources and 
means of influencing him. He is by nature very taciturn ; and 
it often happens that he does not speak to me about matters of 
importance even when he has not the least wish to conceal them 
from me. He answers me when I speak to him about them, but 
he scarcely ever opens the subject ; and when I have learned a 
quarter of the business, I am then forced to use some address to 
make the ministers tell me the rest, by letting them think that 
the king has told me every thing. When I reproach him for not 
having spoken to me of such and such matters, he is not annoyed, 
but only seems a little embarrassed, and sometimes answers, in an 
off-hand way, that he had never thought of it. This distrust, 
which is natural to him, was at first strengthened by his govern- 
or before my marriage. M. de Vauguyon had alarmed him about 
the authority which his wife, would desire to assume over him, 
and the duke's black disposition delighted in terrifying his pupil 
with all the phantom stories invented against the house of Aus- 
tria. M. de Maurepas, though less obstinate and less malicious, 
still thought it advantageous to his own credit to keep up the 
same notions in the king's mind. M. de Vergennes follows the 
same plan, and perhaps avails himself of his correspondence on 
foreign affairs to propagate falsehoods. I have spoken plainly 
about this to the king more than once. He has sometimes an- 
swered me rather peevishly, and, as he is never fond of discus- 
sion, I have not been able to persuade him that his minister was 
deceived, or was deceiving him. I do not blind myself as to the 
extent of my own influence. I know that I have no great as- 
cendency over the king's mind, especially in politics ; and would 
it be prudent in me to have scenes with his ministers on such 
subjects, on which it is almost certain that the king would not 
support me ? Without ever boasting or saying a word that is not 
true, I, however, let the public believe that I have more influence 
than I really have, because, if they did not think so, I should have 
still less. The avowals which I am making to you, my dear 
brother, are not very flattering to my self-love ; but I do not like 
to hide any thing from you, in order that you may be able to 
judge of my conduct as correctly as is possible at this terrible dis- 
tance from you, at which my destiny has placed me."* 

* Arneth, p. 38. 



EXTENT OF HER POLITICAL INFLVENCE. 201 

A melancholy interest attaches to sentences such as these, from 
the influence which the defects in her husband's character, when 
joined to those of his minister, had on the future destinies of 
both, and of the nation over which he ruled. It was natural that 
she should explain them to a brother ; and though, as a general 
rule, it is clearly undesirable for queens consort to interfere in 
politics, it is clear that with such a husband, and with the nation 
and court in such a condition as then existed in France, it was 
indispensable that Marie Antoinette should covet, and, so far as 
she was able, exert, influence over the king, if she were not pre- 
pared to see him the victim or the tool of caballers and intriguers 
who cared far more for their own interests than for those of ei- 
ther king or kingdom. But as yet, though, as we see, these de- 
ficiencies of Louis occasionally caused her annoyance, she had no 
foreboding of evil. Her general feeling was one of entire happi- 
ness ; her children were growing and thriving, her own health was 
far stronger than it had been, and she entered with as keen a rel- 
ish as ever into the excitements and amusements becoming her 
position, and what we may still call her youth, since she was even 
now only eight-and-twenty. 



202 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

"The Marriage of Figaro." — Previous History and Character of Beaumar- 
chais. — The Performance of the Play is forbidden. — It is said to be a little 
altered. — It is licensed. — Displeasure of the Queen. — Visit of Gustavus III. 
of Sweden. — Fete at the Trianon. — Balloon Ascent. 

In the spring of 1784, the court and capital were wrought up 
to a high pitch of excitement by an incident which was in reality 
of so ordinary and trivial a character, that it would be hard to 
find a more striking proof how thoroughly unhealthy the wbole 
condition and feeling of the nation must have been, when sucb a 
matter could have been regarded as important. It was simply a 
question whether a play, which had been recently accepted by the 
manager of the principal theatre in Paris, should receive the li- 
cense from the theatrical censor which was necessary to its being 
performed. 

The play was entitled " The Marriage of Figaro." The history 
of the author, M. Beaumarchais, is curious, as that of a rare speci- 
men of the literary adventurer of his time. He was born in the 
year 1732. His father was a watch-maker named Caron, and he 
himself followed that trade till he was three or four and twenty, 
and attained considerable skill in it. But he was ambitious. He 
was conscious of a handsome face and figure, and knew their value 
in such a court as that of Louis XV. He gave up his trade as 
a watch-maker, and bought successively different places about the 
court, the last of which was sold at a price sufficient to entitle 
him to claim gentility ; so that, in one of his subsequent railings 
against the nobles, lie declared that his nobility Avas more incon- 
testable than that of most of the body, since he could produce 
the stamped receipt for it. Following the example of Moliere 
and Voltaire, he changed his name, and called himself Beaumar- 
chais. He married two rich widows. He formed a connection 
with the celebrated financier, Paris Duverney, who initiated him 
in the mysteries of stock-jobbing. Being a good musician, he ob- 
tained the protection of the king's daughters, taught them the 
harp, and conducted the weekly concerts which, during the life of 



CAREER OF BEAUMARCHAIS. 203 

Marie Leczinska, tliey gave to the king and the royal family. He 
wrote two or three plays, none of which had any great success, 
while one was a decided failure. He became involved in law- 
suits, one of which he conducted himself against the best ability 
of the Parisian bar, and displayed such wit and readiness that 
he not only gained his cause, but established a notoriety which 
throughout life was apparently his dearest object. He crossed 
over to England, where he made the acquaintance of Wilkes, and 
one or two agents of the American colonies, then just commencing 
their insurrection ; and, partly from political sympathy with their 
views of freedom, partly, as he declared, to retaliate on England 
for the injuries which France had suffered at her hands in the 
Seven Years' War, he became a political agent himself, procuring 
arms and ships to be sent across the Atlantic, and also a great 
quantity of stores of a more peaceful character, out of which he 
had hoped to make a handsome profit. But the Americans gave 
him credit for greater disinterestedness ; the President of Con- 
gress wrote him a letter thanking him for his zeal, but refused to 
pay for his stores, for which he demanded nearly a hundred and 
fifty thousand francs. He commenced an action for the money 
in the American courts, but, as he could not conduct it himself, 
he did not obtain an early decision ; indeed, the matter imbit- 
tered all his closing days, and was not settled when he died. 

But while he was in the full flush of self-congratulation at the 
degree in which, as he flattered himself, he had contributed to the 
downfall of England, the exuberance of his spirits prompted him 
to try his hand at a fourth play, a sort of sequel to one of his 
earlier performances — "The Barber of Seville." He finished it 
about the end of the year 1781, and, as the manager of the theatre 
was willing to act it, he at once applied for the necessary license. 
But it had already been talked about : if one party had pro- 
nounced it lively, witty, and the cleverest play that had been seen 
since the death of Moliere, another set of readers declared it full 
of immoral and dangerous satire on the institutions of the coun- 
try. It is almost inseparable from the very nature of comedy 
that it should be to some extent satirical. The offense which 
those who complained of " The Marriage of Figaro " on that ac- 
count really found in it was, that it satirized classes and institu- 
tions which could not bear such attacks, and had not been used to 
them. Moliere had ridiculed the lower middle class; the newly 
rich ; the tradesman who, because he had made a fortune, thought 



204 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

himself a gentleman ; but, as one whose father was in the employ 
of royalty, he laid no hand on any pillar of the throne. But 
Beaumarchais, in " The Marriage of Figaro," singled out especially 
what were called the privileged classes ; he attacked the licentious- 
ness of the nobles ; the pretentious imbecility of ministers and 
diplomatists ; the cruel injustice of wanton arrests and imprison- 
ments of protracted severity against which there was no appeal 
nor remedy ; and the privileged classes in consequence denounced 
his work, and their complaints of its character and tendency made 
such an impression that the court resolved that the license should 
not be granted. 

The refusal, however, was not at first pronounced in a straight- 
forward way ; but was deferred, as if those who had resolved on 
it feared to pronounce it. For a long time the censor gave no re- 
ply at all, till Beaumarchais complained of the delay as more in- 
jurious to him than a direct denial. When at last his application 
was formally rejected, he induced his friends to raise such a clam- 
or in his favor, that Louis determined to judge for himself, and 
caused Madame de Campan to read it to himself and the queen. 
He fully agreed with the censor. Many passages he pronounced 
to be in extremely bad taste. When the reader came to the al- 
lusions to secret arrests, protracted imprisonments, and the tedious 
formalities of the law and lawyers, he declared that it would be 
necessary to pull down the Bastile before it could be acted with 
safety, as Beaumarchais was ridiculing every thing which ought 
to be respected. " It is not to be performed, then ?" said the 
queen. " No," replied the king, " you may depend upon that." 

Similar refusals of a license had been common enough, so that 
there was no reason in the world why this decision should have 
attracted any notice whatever. But Beaumarchais was the fash- 
ion. He had influential patrons even in the palace : the Count 
d'Artois and Madame de Polignac, with the coterie which met in 
her apartments, being among them ; and the mere idea that the 
court or the Government was afraid to let the play be acted 
caused thousands to desire to see it, who, without such a tempta- 
tion, would have been wholly indifferent to its fate. The censor 
could not prevent its being read at private parties, and such read- 
ings became so popular that, in 1782, one was got up for the 
amusement of the Russian prince, who was greatly pleased by 
the liveliness of the dramatic situations, and, probably, not suf- 
ficiently aware of the prevalence of discontent in many circles of 



THE PLAT IS LICENSED. 205 

French society to sympathize with those who saw danger in its 
satire. 

The praises lavished on it gave the author greater boldness, • 
which was quite unnecessary. He even meditated an evasion of 
the law by getting it acted in a place which was not a theatre, 
and tickets were actually issued for the performance in a saloon 
which was often used for rehearsals, when a royal warrant* per- 
emptorily forbidding such a proceeding was sent down from the 
palace. A clamor was at once raised by the friends of Beaumar- 
chais, as if " sealed letters " had never been issued before. They 
talked in a loud voice of " oppression " and " tyranny ;" and any 
one who knew the king's disposition might have divined that 
such an act of vigor was sure to be followed by one of weakness. 
Presently Beaumarchais changed his tone. He gave out that he 
had retrenched the passages which had excited the royal disap- 
proval, and requested that the play might be re-examined. A new 
censor of high literary reputation reported to the head of the po- 
licef that if one or two passages were corrected, and one or two 
expressions, which were liable to be misinterpreted, were suppress- 
ed, he foresaw no danger in allowing the representation. Beau- 
marchais at once promised to make the required corrections, and 
one of Madame de Polignac's friends, the Count de Vaudreuil, 
the very nobleman with whom that lady's name was by many 
discreditably connected, obtained the king's leave to perform it 
at his country house, that thus an opportunity might be afforded 
for judging whether or not the alterations which had been made 
were sufficient to render its performance innocent. 

The king was assured that the passages which he had regarded 
as mischievous were suppressed or divested of their sting. Marie 
Antoinette apparently had her suspicions ; but Louis could never 
long withstand repeated solicitations, and, as he had not, when 
Madame de Campan read it, formed any very high opinion of its 
literary merits, he thought that, now that it was deprived of its 
venom, it would be looked upon as heavy, and would fail accord- 

* "Le roi signa une lettre de cachet quidefendait cette representation." — 
Madame de Campan, ch. xi. ; see the whole chapter. Madame de Campan's ac- 
count of the queen's inclinations on the subject differs from that given by 
M. de Lomenie, in his " Beaumarchais et son Temps," but seems more to be 
relied on, as she had certainly better means of information. 

■j- See M. Gaillard's report to the lieutenant of police. — Beaumarchais et 
son Temps, ii., p. 313. 



206 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

ingly. Some good judges, such as the Marquis de Montesquieu, 
were of the same opinion. The actors thought differently. " It 
is my belief," said a man of fashion to the witty Mademoiselle 
Arnould, using the technical language of the theatre, "that 
your play will be ' damned.' " " Yes," she replied, " it will, fifty 
nights running." But, even if Louis had heard of her prophecy, 
he would have disregarded it. He gave his permission for the 
performance to take place, and on the 27th April, 1784, "The 
Marriage of Figaro " was accordingly acted to an audience 
which filled the house to the very ceiling; and which the long 
uncertainty as to whether it would ever be seen or not had dis- 
posed to applaud every scene and every repartee, and even to see 
wit where none existed. To an impartial critic, removed both by 
time and country from the agitation which had taken place, it 
will probably seem that the play thus obtained a reception far 
beyond its merits. It was undoubtedly what managers would 
call a good acting play. Its plot was complicated without being 
confused. It contained many striking situations ; the dialogue 
was lively, but there was more humor in the surprises and discov- 
eries than verbal wit in the repartees. Some strokes of satire 
were leveled at the grasping disposition of the existing race of 
courtiers, whose whole trade was represented as consisting of get- 
ting all they could, and asking for more ; and others at the tricks 
of modern politicians, feigning to be ignorant of what they knew ; 
to know what they were ignorant of ; to keep secrets which had 
no existence ; to lock the door to mend a pen ; to appear deep 
when they were shallow ; to set spies in motion, and to intercept 
letters ; to try to ennoble the poverty of their means by the grand- 
eur of their objects. The censorship, of course, did not escape. 
The scene being laid in Spain, Figaro affirmed that at Madrid the 
liberty of the press meant that, so long as an author spoke nei- 
ther of authority, nor of public worship, nor of politics, nor of mo- 
rality, nor of men in power, nor of the opera, nor of any other 
exhibition, nor of any one who was concerned in any thing, he 
might print what he pleased. The lawyers were repi'oached with 
a scrupulous adherence to forms, and a connivance at needless 
delays, which put money into their pockets ; and the nobles, with 
thinking that, as long as they gave themselves the trouble to be 
born, society had no right to expect from them any further use- 
ful action. But such satire. was too general, it might have been 
thought, to cause uneasiness, much more to do specific injury to 



GUSTATUS III. OF SWEDEN. 207 

any particular individual, or to any company or profession. Fi- 
garo himself is represented as saying that none but little men 
feared little writings.* And one of the advisers whom King 
Louis consulted as to the possibility of any mischief arising from 
the performance of the play, is said to have expressed his opin- 
ion in the form of an apothegm, that " none but dead men were 
killed by jests." The author might even have argued that his 
keenest satire had been poured upon those national enemies, the 
English, when he declared what has been sometimes regarded as 
the national oath to be the pith and marrow of the English lan- 
guage, the open sesame to English society, the key to unlock 
the English heart, and to obtain the judicious swearer all that he 
could desire, f 

And an English writer, with English notions of the liberty of 
the press, would hardly have thought it worth while to notice such 
an affair at all, did he not feel bound to submit his judgment to 
that of the French themselves. And if their view be correct, al- 
most every institution in France must have been a dead man past 
all hopes of recovery, since the French historical writers, to what- 
ever party they belong, are unanimous in declaring that it was 
from this play that many of the oldest institutions in the country 
received their death-blow, and that Beaumarchais was at once the 
herald and the pioneer of the approaching Kevolution. 

Paris had scarcely cooled down after this excitement, when its 
attention was more agreeably attracted by the arrival of a king, 
Gustavus III. of Sweden. He had paid a visit to France in 1771, 
which had been cut short by the sudden death of his father, ne- 
cessitating his immediate return to his own country to take pos- 
session of his throne ; but the brief acquaintance which Marie An- 
toinette had then made with him had inspired her with a great 
admiration of his chivalrous character ; and in the preceding year, 
hearing that he was contemplating a tour in Southern Europe, she 
had written to him to express a hope that he would repeat his 
visit to Versailles, promising him " such a reception as was due to 

* "H n'y a que les petits hommes qui redoutent les petits ecrits." — Act v., 
scene 3. 

f " Avec Ooddam en, Angleterre on ne manque de rien nulle part. Voulez- 

vous tater un bon poulet gras Goddam Aimez-vous k boire un coup 

d'excellent Bourgogne ou de clairet ? rien que celui-ci Goddam. Les Anglais 
a la verite ajoutent par-ci par-U autres mots«ien conversant, mais il est bien 
aise de voir que Goddam est le fond de la larigue." — Act iii., scene 5. 



208 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

an ancient ally of France ;"* and adding that " slie should person- 
ally have great pleasure in testifying to him how greatly she val- 
ued his friendship." 

Her mention of the ancient alliance between the two countries, 
which, indeed, had subsisted ever since the days of Francis I., was 
very welcome to Gustavus, since the object of his journey was 
purely political, and he desired to negotiate a fresh treaty. But 
those matters he, of course, arranged with the ministers. The 
queen was only concerned in the entertainments due from royal 
hosts to so distinguished a guest. Most of them were of the or- 
dinary character, there being a sort of established routine of fes- 
tivity for such occasions. And it may be taken as a proof that 
the court had abated somewhat of its alarm at Beaumarchais's 
play that " The Marriage of Figaro " was allowed to be acted on 
one of the king's visits to the theatre. She also gave him an en- 
tertainment of more than usual splendor at the Trianon, at which 
all the ladies present, and the invitations were very numerous, 
were required to be dressed in white, while all the walks and 
shrubberies of the garden were illuminated, so that the whole 
scene presented a spectacle which he described in one of his let- 
ters as " a complete fairy-land ; a sight worthy of the Elysian 
Fields themselves."! But, as usual, the queen herself was the 
chief ornament of the whole, as she moved graciously among her 
guests, laying aside the character of queen to assume that of the 
cordial hostess; and not even taking "her place at the banquet, 
but devoting herself wholly to the pleasurable duty of doing hon- 
or to her guests. 

One of the displays was of a novel character, from which its 
inventors and patrons expected scientific results of importance, 
which, though nearly a century has since elapsed, have not yet 
been realized. In the preceding year, Montgolfier had for the 
first time sent up a balloon, and the new invention was now exhib- 
ited in the Court of Versailles : the queen allowed the balloon to 
be called by her name ; and, to the great admiration of Gustavus, 
who had a decided taste for matters which were in any way con- 
nected with practical science, the " Marie Antoinette " made a suc- 
cessful voyage to Chantilly. The date of another invention, if, 
indeed, it deserves so respectable a title, is also fixed by this roy- 
al visit. Mesmer had recently begun to astonish or bewilder the 

* " Gustave III. et la Cour de France," ii., p. 22. f Ibid., p. 35. 



MUTUAL ESTEEM CHEATED. 209 

Parisians with his theory of animal magnetism ; and Gustavus 
spent some time in discussing the question with him, and seems 
for a moment to have flattered himself that he comprehended his 
principles. But the only durable result which arose from his stay 
in France was the sincere regard and esteem which he and the 
queen mutually conceived for each other. They established a cor- 
respondence, in which Marie Antoinette repeatedly showed her 
eagerness to gratify his wishes and to attend to his recommenda- 
tions ; and when, at a later period, unexpected troubles fell on her 
and her husband, there was no one whom their troubles inspired 
with greater eagerness to serve them than Gustavus, whose last 
projects, before he fell by the hand of an assassin, were directed to 
their deliverance from the dangers which, though neither he nor 
they were as yet fully alive to their magnitude, were on the point 
of overwhelming them. 

14 



210 LIFE OF MABLE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XX. 

St. Cloud is purchased for the Queen. — Libelous Attacks on her. — Birth of 
the Due de Normandie. — Joseph presses her to make France support his 
Views in the Low Countries. — The Affair of the Necklace. — Share which the 
Cardinal de Rohan had in it. — The Queen's Indignation at his Acquittal. — 
Subsequent Career of the Cardinal. 

Marie Antoinette had long since completed her gardens at 
the Trianon, but the gradual change in the arrangements of the 
court had made a number of alterations requisite at Versailles, 
with which the difficulty of finding money rendered it desirable 
to proceed slowly. It was reckoned that it would be necessary to 
give up the greater part of the palace to workmen for ten years ; 
and as the other palaces which the king possessed in the neighbor- 
hood of Paris were hardly suited for the permanent residence of 
the court, the queen proposed to her husband to obtain St. Cloud 
from the Due d'Orleans, giving him in exchange La Muette, the 
Castle of Choisy, and a small adjacent forest. Such an arrange- 
ment would have produced a considerable saving by the reduction 
of the establishments kept up at those places, at which the court 
only spent a few days in each year. And as the duke was dis- 
posed to think that he should be a gainer by the exchange, it is 
not very easy to explain how it was that the original project was 
given up, and that St. Cloud was eventually sold to the crown for 
a sum of money, Choisy and La Muette being also retained. 

St. Cloud was bought ; and Marie Antoinette, still eager to pre- 
vent her own acquisition from being too costly, proposed to the 
king that it should be bought in her name, and called her proper- 
ty ; since an establishment for her would naturally be framed on 
a more moderate scale than that of any palace belonging to the 
king, which was held always to require the appointment of a gov- 
ernor and deputy-governors, with a corresponding staff of under- 
lings, while she should only require a porter at the outer gate. 
The advantage of such a plan was so obvious that it was at once 
adopted. The porters and servants wore the queen's livery ; and 
all notices of the regulations to be observed were signed " In the 



LIBEL OUS A TTA GKS ON HEB. 211 

queen's name."* Yet so busy were her enemies at this time, that 
even this simple arrangement, devised solely for the benefit of the 
people who were intimately concerned in every thing that tended 
to diminish the royal expenditure, gave rise to numberless cavils. 
Some afiirmed that the issue of such notices in the name of the 
queen instead of in that of the king was an infringement on his 
authority. One most able and influential counselor of the Parlia- 
ment, Duval d'Espremesnil, who in more than one discussion in 
subsequent years showed that in general he fully appreciated the 
principles of constitutional government, but who at this time seems 
to have been animated by no other feeling than that of hatred for 
the existing ministers, even went the length of affirming that there 
was " something not only impolitic but immoral in the idea of 
any palace belonging to a queen of France."f But when the ar- 
rangements h^d once been made, Marie Antoinette not unnatural- 
ly thought her honor concerned in not abandoning it in deference 
to clamor so absurd, as well as so disrespectful to herself; and 
St. Cloud, to which she had always been partial, continued hers, 
and for the next five years divided her attention with the Tri- 
anon. 

But though she herself disregarded all such attacks with the 
calm dignity which belonged to her character, her friends were 
not free from serious apprehensions as to the power of persistent 
detraction and calumny. It was one of the penalties which the 
nation had to pay for the infamies which had stained the crown 
during the last three centuries, that the people had learned to think 
that nothing was too bad to say and to believe of their kings ; and 
Marie Antoinette seemed as yet a fairer mark than usual for slan- 
derous attack, because her position was weaker than that of a 
king.J It depended on the life of her husband and of a single 
son, who was already beginning to show signs of weakness of con- 
stitution. It was therefore with exceeding satisfaction that in the 
autumn of 1784 her friends learned that she was again about to 
become a mother. They prayed with inexpressible anxiety that 

* " De par la reine." f Madame de Campan, ch. xi. 

X '"La legferete h. tout croire et k tout dire des souverains,' ecrit tres juste- 
ment M. Nisard {Moniteur du 22 Janvier, 1866), ' est un des travers de notre 
pays, et comme le defaut de notre qualite de nation monarchique. C'est ce 
travers qui a tue Marie Antoinette par la main des furieux qui eurent peut- 
etre deshonnetes gens pour complices. Sa mort devait rendre k jamais im- 
possible en France la calomnie politique.' " — Chambrier, i., p. 494. 



212 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

the expected child should prove a son ; and on the 27th of March, 
1785, their prayers were granted. A son was born, whom his de- 
lighted father at once took in his arms, calling him " his little Nor- 
man," and, saying " that the name alone would bring him happi- 
ness," created Duke of Normandy. No prophecy was ever so sad- 
ly falsified ; no king's son had ever so miserable a lot ; but no fore- 
bodings of evil as yet disturbed his parents. Their delight was 
fully shared by the body of the people ; for the cabals against the 
queen were as yet confined to the immediate precincts of the court, 
and had not descended to- infect the middle classes. It was with 
difficulty when, after her confinement, she paid her visit to Paris 
to return thanks at Notre Dame and St. Genevieve, that the citi- 
zens could be prevented from^ unharnessing her horses and drag- 
ging her coach in triumph through the streets.* And their ex- 
ultation was fully shared by the better - intentioned class of court- 
iers, and by all Marie Antoinette's real friends, who felt assured 
that the birth of this second son had given her the security which 
had hitherto been wanting to her position. 

Meanwhile, she was again led to interest herself greatly in for- 
eign politics, though in truth she hardly regarded any thing in 
which her brother's empire was interested as foreign, so deep was 
her conviction that the interests of France and Austria were iden- 
tical and inseparable, and so unwearied were her endeavors to 
make her husband's ministers see all questions that concerned her 
brother's dominions with her eyes. Throughout the latter part 
of 1784, and the earlier months of 1785, Joseph, who was always 
restless in his ambition, was full of schemes of aggrandizement 
which he desired to carry out through the favor and co-operation 
of France. At one moment he projected obtaining Bavaria in 
exchange for the Netherlands, at another he aimed at procuring 
the opening of the Scheldt by threatening the Dutch with instant 
war if they resisted. But, as all these schemes were eventually 
abandoned, they would hardly require to be mentioned here, were 
it not for the proofs which his correspondence with his sister af- 
fords of his increasing esteem for her capacity, and his evident 
conviction of her growing influence in the French Government, 
and for the light which some of her answers to his letters throw 
on her relations with the ministers, which had perhaps some share 
in increasing the annoyance that the affair of " the necklace," as 

* " Memoires de la Reine de France," par M. Lafont d'Aussonne, p. 42. 



SCHEMES OF THE EMPEROR. 213 

will be presently mentioned, caused her before the end of the 
year. Her difficulties with Louis himself were the same as she 
had already described to her brother on former occasions. " It 
was impossible to induce him to take a strong line, so as to speak 
resolutely to M. de Vergennes in her presence, and equally so to 
prevent his changing his mind afterward ;"* while she distrusted 
the good faith of the minister so much that, though she resolved 
to speak to him strongly on the subject, she would not do so till 
she could discuss the question with him " in the presence of the 
king, that he might not be able to disfigure or to exaggerate what 
she said." Yet she did not always find her precautions effectual. 
Louis's judgment was always at the mercy of the last speaker. 
She assured her brother that " he had abundant reason to be con- 
tented with the king's personal feelings on the subject. When 
he received the emperor's letter, he spoke to her about it in a way 
that delighted her. He regarded Joseph's demands as just, and 
his motives as most reasonable. Yet — she blushed to own it even 
to her brother — after he had seen his minister, his tone was no 
longer the same ; he was embarrassed ; he shunned the subject 
with her, and often found some new objection to weaken the ef- 
fect of his previous admissions." 

At one time she even feared a rupture between the two coun- 
tries. Vergennes was urging the king to send an army of ob- 
servation to the frontier; and, if it were sent, the proximity of 
such a force to the Austrian troops in the Netherlands would, to 
her apprehension, be full of danger. There was sound political 
acuteness in her remark that the dispatch of an army of observa- 
tion was not " in itself a declaration of war, but that when two 
armies are so near to one another an order to advance is very 
soon executed;" and, with a shrewd perception of the argument 
which was most likely to influence the humane disposition of her 
husband, she pressed upon him that " the delays and shuffling of 
his ministers might very probably involve him in war, in spite of 
his own intentions." However, eventually the clouds which had 
caused her anxiety were dissipated ; the mediation of France had 
even some share in leading to a conclusion of these disputes in a 
manner in which Joseph himself acquiesced ; and the good un- 
derstanding between the two crowns, on which, as Marie Antoi- 

* See her letters to Mercy, December 26th, 1784, and to the emperor, De- 
cember 31st, 1*784, and February 4th, 1785, Arneth, p. 64, et seq. 



214 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

nette often declared, her happiness greatly depended, was pre- 
served, or, as she hoped, even strengthened, by the result of these 
negotiations. 

But on one occasion of real moment to the personal comfort 
and credit of the queen, Louis behaved with a clear good sense, 
and, what was equally important, with a firmness which she grate- 
fully acknowledged,* and contrasted remarkably with the pusil- 
lanimous advice that had been given by more than one of the min- 
isters. That the affair in which he exhibited these qualities should 
for a moment have been regarded as one of political importance, 
is another testimony to the diseased state of the public mind at 
the time ; and that it should have been possible so to use it as 
to attach the slightest degree of discredit to the queen, is a proof 
as strange as melancholy how greatly the secret intrigues of the 
basest cabal that ever disgraced a court had succeeded in under- 
mining her reputation, and poisoning the very hearts of the peo- 
ple against her.f 

Boehmer,: the court jeweler, had collected a large number of 
diamonds of unusual size and brilliancy, which he had fonned 
into a necklace, in the hope of selling it to the queen, whose fancy 
for such jewels had some years before been very great. She had 
at one time spent sums on diamond ornaments, large enough tc 
provoke warm remonstrances from her mother, though certainl) 
not excessive for her rank; and Louis, knowing her partiali: 
for them, had more than once made her costly gifts of the kind. 
But her taste for them had cooled ; her children now engrossed 
far more of her attention than her dress, and she was keenly alive 
to the distress which still prevailed in many parts of the king- 
dom, and to the embarrassments of the revenue, which the inge- 
nuity of Calonne did not relieve half so rapidly as his rashness 
encumbered it. Accordingly, her reply to Boehmer's application 
that she would purchase his necklace was that her jewel-case was 
sufficiently full, and that she had almost given up wearing dia- 
monds ; and that if such a sum as he asked, which was nearly 
seventy thousand pounds, were available, she should greatly prefer 

* " J'ai ete reelletnent touchee de la raison et de la fermete que le roi a 
mises dans cette rude seance." — Marie Antoinette to Joseph II., August 22d, 
1'785, Arneth, p. 93. 

f "La calomnie s'est attachee k poursuivre la reine, meme avant cette 
epoque ou 1' esprit de parti a fait disparaitre la verite de la terre." — Madame 
DE Stael, Proces de la Reine, p. 2. 



THE NECKLACE. 215 

its being spent on a ship for the nation, to replace the Ville de 
Paris, whose loss still rankled in her breast. 

The king, who thought that she must secretly wish for a jewel 
of such unequaled splendor, offered to make her a present of the 
necklace, but she adhered to her refusal. Boehmer was greatly 
disappointed ; he had exhausted his resources and his credit in 
collecting the stones in the hope of making a grand profit, and 
declared loudly to his patrons that he should be ruined if the 
queen could not be induced to change her mind. His com- 
plaints were so unrestrained that they reached the ears of those 
who saw in his despair a possibility of enriching themselves at his 
expense. There was in Paris at the time a Countess de la Mothe, 
who, as claiming descent from a natural son of Henri H., had 
added Valois to her name, and had her claim to royal birth so 
far allowed that, as she was in very destitute circumstances, she 
had obtained a small pension from the crown. Her pension and 
her pretensions had perhaps united to procure her the hand of 
the Count de la Mothe, who had for some time been discredita- 
bly known as one of the most worthless and dangerous advent- 
urers who infested the capital. But her marriage had been no 
restraint on a life of unconcealed profligacy, and among her lov- 
ers she reckoned the Cardinal de Rohan, who, as we have already 
u seen, was as little scrupulous or decent as herself. 

As, however, the cardinal's extravagance had left him with lit- 
tle means of supplying her necessities, Madame La Mothe con- 
ceived the idea of swindling Boehmer out of his necklace, and of 
making de Rohan an accomplice in the fraud. The one thing 
which in the transaction is difficult to determine is whether the 
cardinal was her willing and conscious assistant, or her dupe. 
That his capacity was of the very lowest order was notorious, but 
he was a man who had been bred in courts ; he knew the manner 
in which princes transacted their business, and in which queens 
signed their names. He had long been acquainted with Marie 
Antoinette's figure and gestures and voice ; while, unhappily, 
there was nothing in his character which was incompatible with 
his becoming an accomplice in any act of baseness. 

What followed was a drama of surprises. It was with as much 
astonishment as indignation that Marie Antoinette learned that 
Boehmer believed that she had secretly bought the necklace, 
which openly and formally she had refused, and that he was look- 
ing to her for the payment of its price. And about a fortnight 



216 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

later it was like a thunder-clap that a summons came upon the 
Cardinal de Rohan, who had just been performing mass before 
the king and queen, to appear before them in Louis's private cab- 
inet, and that he found himself subjected to an examination by 
Louis himself, who demanded of him with great indignation an 
explanation of the circumstances that had led him to represent 
himself to Boehmer as authorized to buy a necklace for the queen. 
Terrified and confused, he gave an explanation which was half a 
confession ; but which was too complicated to be thoroughly in- 
telligible. He was ordered to retire into the next room and write 
out his statement. His written narrative proved more obscure 
than his spoken words. In spite of his prayers that he might 
be spared the degradation of being arrested while still clad in his 
pontifical habits, he was at once sent to the Bastile. A day or 
two afterward Madame La Mothe was apprehended in the prov- 
inces, and Louis directed that a prosecution should be instantly 
commenced against all who had been concerned in the transac- 
tion. 

For the queen's name had been forged. The cardinal did not 
deny that he had represented himself to Boehmer as employed 
by her for the purchase of the jewel which, as he said, she se- 
cretly coveted, and for the payment of its price by installments. 
But, as his justification, he produced a letter desiring him to un- 
dertake the business, and signed " Marie Antoinette de France." 
He declared that he had never suspected the genuineness of this 
letter, though it was notorious that such an addition to their 
Christian names was used by none but the sons and daughters of 
the reigning sovereign, and never by a queen. And eventually 
his whole story was found to be that Madame La Mothe had in- 
duced him to believe that she was in the queen's confidence, and 
also that the queen coveted the necklace and was resolved to ob- 
tain it ; but that she was unable at once to pay for it ; and that, 
being desirous to make amends to the cardinal for the neglect 
with which she had hitherto treated him, she had resolved on em- 
ploying him to make arrangements with Boehmer for the instant 
delivery of the ornament, and for her payment of the price by in- 
stallments. 

This was strange enough to have excited the suspicions of 
most men. What followed was stranger still. Not content with 
forging the queen's handwriting, Madame La Mothe had even, if 
one may say so, forged the queen herself. She had assured the 



PROSECUTION OF THE CULPRITS. 217 

cardinal that Marie Antoinette had consented to grant him a se- 
cret interview ; and at midnight, in the gardens of Versailles, had 
introduced him to a woman of notoriously bad character named 
Oliva, who in height resembled the queen, and who, in a confer- 
ence of half a minute, gave him a letter and a rose with the 
words, " You know what this means." She had hardly uttered 
the words when Madame La Mothe interrupted the pair with the 
warning the Countesses of Provence and Artois were approach- 
ing. The mock queen retired in haste. The cardinal pressed 
the rose to his heart ; acted on the letter ; and protested that he 
had never doubted that he had seen the queen, and had been act- 
ing on her commands in obtaining the necklace from Boehmer 
and delivering it to Madame La Mothe, though he now acknowl- 
edged that he had been imposed upon, and offered to pay the 
jeweler for his property. 

There were not wanting those who advised that this offer 
should be accepted, and that the matter should be hushed up, 
rather than that a prince of the Church should be publicly dis- 
graced by a prosecution for fraud. But Louis and Marie Antoi- 
nette both rightly judged that their duty as sovereigns of the 
kingdom forbade them to compromise justice by screening dis- 
honesty. It was but two years before that a great noble, the 
most eloquent of all French orators, had singled out Marie Antoi- 
nette's love of justice as, one of her most conspicuous, as it was 
one of her most noble, qualities ; and the words deserve especial- 
ly to be remembered from the melancholy contrast which his sub- 
sequent conduct presents to the voluntary tribute which he now 
paid to her excellence. In 1783, the young Count de Mirabeau, 
pleading for the restitution of his conjugal rights, put the ques- 
tion to the judges at Aix before whom he was arguing, " Which 
of you, if he desired to consecrate a living personification of jus- 
tice, and to embellish it with all the charms of beauty, would not 
set up the august image of our queen ?" 

She --and her husband might well have felt they were bound to 
act up to such a eulogy. Some of their advisers also, and espe- 
cially the Baron de Breteuil and the Abbe de Vermond, fortified 
their decision with their advice ; being, in truth, greatly influenced 
by a reason which they forbore to mention, namely, by their sus- 
picion that the untiring malice of the queen's enemies would not 
have failed to represent that the suppression of the slightest par- 
ticle of the truth could only have been dictated by a guilty con- 



218 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

sciousness which felt that it could not bear the light ; and that 
the queen had forborne to bring the cardinal into court solely be- 
cause she knew that he was in a situation to prove facts which 
would deservedly damage her reputation. 

It is impossible to doubt that the resolution which was adopt- 
ed was the only one consistent with either propriety or common 
sense. However plausible may be the arguments which in this 
or that case may be adduced for concealment, the common in- 
stinct of mankind, which rarely errs in such matters, always con- 
ceives a suspicion that it is dictated by secret and discreditable 
motives ; and that he who screens manifest guilt from exposure 
and punishment makes himself an accomplice in the wrong-doing, 
if he was not so before. But, though Louis judged rightly for 
his own and his queen's character in bringing those who were 
guilty of forgery and robbery to a public trial, the result inflict- 
ed an irremediable wound on one great institution, furnishing an 
additional proof how incurably rotten the whole system of the 
Government must have been, when corruption without shame or 
disguise was allowed to sway the highest judicial tribunal in the 
country. 

The Parliament of Paris, constantly endeavoring throughout 
its whole history to encroach upon the royal prerogative, had al- 
ways founded its pretensions on its purity and disinterestedness. 
Since its re-establishment at the beginning of the present reign, it 
had advanced its claim to the possession of those virtues more 
loudly than ever ; yet now, in the very first case which came be- 
fore it in which a noble of the highest rank was concerned, it was 
made apparent not only that it was wholly destitute of every 
quality which ought to belong to a judicial bench, of a regard for 
truth and justice, and even of a knowledge of the law ; but that 
no one gave it credit for them, and that every one regarded the 
decision to be given as one which would depend, not on the mer- 
its of the case, but on the interest which the culprits might be 
able to make with the judges.* 

The trial took place in May of the following year. We need 
not enter into its details ; the denials, the admissions, the mutu- 
al recriminations of the persons accused. In the fate of the La 
Mothes and Mademoiselle Oliva no one professed to be concern- 



* Madame de Campan, " Eclaircissements Historiques," p. 461 ; " Marie An- 
toinette et le Proces du Collier," par M. Emile Campardon, p. 144, seq. 



THE CARDINAL ACQUITTED. 219 

ed; but the friends of the cardinal were numerous, rich, and 
powerful ; and for months had been and still were indefatigable 
in his cause. Some days before the trial, the attorney-general 
had become aware that nearly the whole of the Parliament had 
been gained by them ; he even furnished the queen with a list of 
the names of those judges who had promised their verdict before- 
hand, and of the means by which they had been won over. And 
on the decisive morning the cardinal and his friends made a the- 
atrical display which was evidently intended to overawe those 
members of the Parliament who were yet unconvinced, and to en- 
list the sympathies of the public in general. He himself appear- 
ed at the bar in a long violet cloak, the mourning robe of cardi- 
nals ; and all the passages leading to the hall of justice were lined 
by his partisans, also in deep mourning ; and they were not sole- 
ly his own relations, the nobles of the different branches of his 
family, the Soubises, the Kohans, the Guimenees ; but though, as 
princes of the blood, the Condes were nearly allied to the king 
and queen, they also were not ashamed to swell the company as- 
sembled, and to solicit the judges as they passed into the court to 
disregard alike justice and their own oaths, and to acquit the car- 
dinal, whatever the evidence might be which had been, or was to 
be, produced against him. They were only asking what they had 
already assured themselves of obtaining. The queen's signature 
was indeed declared to be a forgery, and the La Mothes, Made- 
moiselle Oliva, and a man named Retaux de Villette, who had been 
the actual writer of the forged letters, were convicted and sen- 
tenced to the punishment which the counsel for the crown had 
demanded. But the cardinal was acquitted, as well as a notorious 
juggler and impostor of the day, called Cagliostro, who had ap- 
parently been so entirely unconnected with the transaction that it 
is not easy to see how he became included in the prosecution ; 
and permission was given to the cardinal to make his acquittal 
public in any manner and to any extent which he might desire.* 
The subsequent history of the La Mothes was singular and 
characteristic. The countess, who had been sentenced to be flog- 
ged, branded, and imprisoned for life, after a time contrived, it is 
believed by the aid of some of the Rohan family, to escape from 



* " Permet au Cardinal de Rohan et au dit de Cagliostro de f aire imprimer 
et afficher le present arret partout ou bon leur semblera." — Campardon, p. 
152. 



220 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

prison. She fled to London, where for some time she and her 
husband lived on the proceeds of the necklace, which they had 
broken up and sold piecemeal to jewelers in London and other 
cities ; but they were soon reduced to great distress. After the 
Revolution had broken out in Paris, they tried to make money 
by publishing libels on the queen, in which they are believed to 
have obtained the aid of some who in former times had been 
under great personal obligations to Marie Antoinette. But the 
scheme failed : they were overwhelmed with debt ; writs were is- 
sued against them, and in trying to escape from the sheriff's of- 
ficers, the countess fell from a window at the top of a house, and 
received injuries which proved fatal. 

A most accomplished writer of the present day, who has de- 
voted much care and ability to the examination of the case, has 
pronounced an opinion that the cardinal was innocent of dishon- 
esty,* and limits his offense to that of insulting the queen by the 
mere suspicion that she could place her confidence in such an un- 
worthy agent as Madame La Mothe, or that he himself could be 
allowed to recover her favor by such means as he had employed. 
But his absolute ignorance of the countess's schemes is not entire- 
ly consistent with the admitted fact that, Avhen he was arrested, 
his first act was to send orders to his secretary to burn all the let- 
ters which he had received from her on the subject; and unques- 
tionably neither Louis nor Marie Antoinette doubted his full com- 
plicity in the conspiracy. Louis at once deprived him of his of- 
fice of grand almoner, and banished him from the court, declaring 
that " he knew too well the usages of the court to have believed 
that Madame La Mothe had really been admitted to the queen's 
presence and intrusted with such a commission."! And Marie 
Antoinette gave open expression to her indignation at the acquit- 
tal " of an intriguer who had sought to ruin her, or to procure 
'money for himself, by abusing her name and forging her signa- 
ture," adding, with undeniable truth, that still more to be pitied 
than herself was a " nation which had for its supreme tribunal a 
body of men who consulted nothing but their passions, and of 
whom some were full of corruption, and others were inspired with 



* " Sans doute le cardinal avait les mains pures de toute fraude ; sans 
doute il n'etait pour rien dans I'escroquerie commise par les epoux de La 
Mothe." — Campardon, p. 155. 

\ Campardon, p. 153, quoting Madame de Campan. 



INDIONATION OF THEQUSEN. 221 

a boldness whicli always vented itself in opposition to those who 
were clothed with lawful authority."* 

But her magnanimity and her sincere affecticin for the whole 
people were never more manifest than now even in her first mo- 
ments of indignation. Even while writing t6 Madame de Poli- 
gnac that she is " bathed in tears of grief and despair," and that 
she can " hope for nothing good when perverseness is so busy in 
seeking means to chill her very soul," she yet adds that " she 
shall triumph over her enemies by doing more good than ever, and 
that it will be easier for them to afflict her than to drive her to 
avenging herself on them."f And she uses the same language to 
her sister Christine, even while expressing still more strongly her 
indignation at being " sacrificed to a perjured priest and a shame- 
less intriguer." She demands her sister's " pity, as one who had 
never deserved such injurious treatment ;]; but who had only recol- 
lected that she was the daughter of Maria Teresa — to fulfill her 
mother's exhortations, always to show herself French to the very 
bottom of her heart ;" but she concludes by repeating the declara- 
tioli that " nothing shall tempt her to any conduct unworthy of 
herself, and that the only revenge that she will take shall be to re- 
double her acts of kindness." 

It is pleasing to be able to close so odious a subject by the 
statement that the disgrace which the cardinal had thus brought 
upon himself may be supposed in some respects to have served as 
a lesson to him, and that his conduct in the latter days of his life 



* The most recent French historian, M. H. Martin, sees in this trial a proof 
of the general demoralization of the whole French nation. " L'impression qui 
en resulte pour nous est I'impossibilite que la reine ait ete coupable. Mais 
plus les imputations dirigees centre elle etaient vraisemblables, plus la cre- 
ance accordee h, ces imputations etait caracteristique, et attestait la mine mo- 
rale de la monarchie. C etait 1' ombre du Pare aux Cerfs qui couvrait tou- 
jours Versailles." — Histoire de France, xvi., p. 559, ed. 1860. 

f Feuillet de Conches, i., p. 161. 

X Feuillet de Conches, i., p. 162. Some of the critics of M. F. de Conches's 
collection have questioned without sufficient reason the probability of there 
having been any correspondence between the queen and her elder sister. But 
the genuineness of this letter is strongly corroborated by a mistake into which 
no forger would have fallen. The queen speaks as if the cardinal had alleged 
that he had given her a rose ; while his statement really was that Oliva, per- 
sonating the queen, had dropped a rose at his feet. A forger would have 
made the letter correspond with the evidence and the fact. The queen, in 
her agitation, might easily make a mistake. 



222 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

was sucli as to do no discredit to the noble race from whicli he 
sprung. 

A great part of his diocese as Bishop of Strasburg lay on the 
German side of the Rhine ; and thither,* when the French Revo- 
lution began to assume the blood-thirsty character which has made 
it a warning to all future ages, he was fortunate to escape in safety 
from the fury of the assassins who ruled France. And though he 
was no longer rich, his less fortunate countrymen, and especially 
his clerical brethren, found in him a liberal protector and support- 
er.f He even levied a body of troops to re-enforce the royalist 
army. But, when the First Consul wrung from the Pope a con- 
cordat of which he disapproved, he resigned his bishopric, and 
shortly afterward died at Ettenheim,J where, had he remained 
but a short time longer, he, like the Duke d'Enghien, might have 
found that a residence in a foreign land was no protection against 
the ever-suspicious enmity of Bonaparte. 

* " II se retira dans son eveche de I'autre cote du Rhin. L^ sa noble con- 
duite fit oublier les tortes de sa vie passee,"etc. — Campaedon, p. 156. 

•|- Campardon, p. 156. 

:|: It was from Ettenheim that the Duke d'Enghien was carried off in March, 
1804. The cardinal died in February, 1803. 



( 



LOUIS'S INTENTIONS FRUSTRATED. 223 



CHAPTER XXI. 

The King visits Cherbourg. — Rarity of Royal Journeys. — The Princess 
Christine visits the Queen. — Hostility of the Due d'Orleans to the Queen. — 
Libels on her. — She is called Madame Deficit. — She has a Second Daughter, 
who dies. — 111 Health of the Dauphin. — Unskillfulness and Extravagance of 
Calonne's System of Finance. — Distress of the Kingdom. — He assembles 
the Notables. — They oppose his Plans. — Letters of Marie Antoinette on the 
Subject. — Her Ideas of the English Parliament. — Dismissal of Calonne. — 
Character of Archbishop Lomenie de Brienne. — Obstinacy of Necker. — 
The Archbishop is appointed Minister. — The Distress increases. — The No- 
tables are dissolved. — Violent Opposition of the Parliament. — Resemblance 
of the French Revolution to the EngUsh Rebellion of 1642. — Arrest of 
d'Espremesnil and Montsabert. 

It was owing to Marie Antoinette's influence that Louis himself 
in the following year began to enter on a line of conduct which, 
if circumstances had not prevented him from persevering in it, 
might have tended, more perhaps than any thing else that he 
could have done, to make him also popular with the main body 
of the people. The emperor, while at Versailles, had strongly 
pressed upon him that it was his duty, as king of the nation, to 
make himself personally acquainted with every part of his king- 
dom, to visit the agricultural districts, the manufacturing towns, 
the fortresses, arsenals, and harbors of the country. Joseph him- 
self had practiced what he preached. No corner of his domin- 
ions was unknown to him ; and it is plain that there can be no 
nation which must not be benefited by its sovereign thus obtain- 
ing a personal knowledge of all the various interests and resources 
of his subjects. But such personal investigations were not yet un- 
derstood to be a part of a monarch's duties. Louis's contempo- 
rary, our own sovereign, George III., than whom, if rectitude of 
intention and benevolence of heart be the principal standards by 
which princes should be judged, no one ever better deserved to 
be called the father of his country, scarcely ever went a hundred 
miles from Windsor, and never once visited even those Midland 
Counties which before the end of his reign had begun to give un- 
deniable tokens of the contribution which their industry was to 



224 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

f urnisli to the growing greatness of his empire ; and the last two 
kings of France, though in the course of their long reigns they 
had once or twice visited their armies while waging war on the 
Flemish or German frontier, had never seen their western or 
southern provinces. 

But now Marie Antoinette suggested to her husband that it 
was time that he should extend his travels, which, except when 
he had gone to Rheims for his coronation, had never yet carried 
him beyond Compiegne in one direction and Fontainebleau in 
another; and, as of all the departments of Government, that 
which was concerned with the marine of the nation interested her 
most (we fear that she was secretly looking forward to a renewal 
of war with England), she persuaded him to select for the object 
of his first visit the fort of Cherbourg in Normandy, where those 
great works had been recently begun which have since been con- 
stantly augmented and improved, till they have made it a worthy 
rival to our own harbors on the opposite side of the Channel. He 
was received in all the towns through which he passed with real 
joy. The Normans had never seen their king since Henry IV. 
had made their province his battle - field ; and the queen, who 
would gladly have accompanied him, had it not been that such a 
journey undertaken by both would have resembled a state pro- 
cession, and therefore have been tedious and comparatively use- 
less, exulted in the reception which he had met with, and began 
to plan other expeditions of the same kind for him, feeling as- 
sured that his presence would be equally welcomed in other prov- 
inces — at Bordeaux, at Lyons, or at Toulon, And a series of such 
visits would undoubtedly have been calculated to strengthen the 
attachment of the people everywhere to the royal authority; 
which, already, to some far-seeing judges, seemed likely soon to 
need all the re-enforcement which it could obtain in any quarter. 

In the summer of 1786 she had a visit from her sister Christine, 
the Princess of Teschen, who, with her husband, had been joint 
governor of Hungary, and since the death of her uncle, Charles of 
Lorraine, had been removed to the Netherlands. She had never 
seen her sister since her own marriage, and the month which they 
spent together at Versailles may be almost described as the last 
month of perfect enjoyment that Marie Antoinette ever knew ; for 
troubles were thickening fast around the Government, and were 
being taken wicked advantage of by her enemies, at the head of 
whom the Due d'Orleans now began openly to range himself. He 



LIBELS ON THE QUEEN. 225 

was a man notorious, as has been already seen, for every kind of 
infamy ; and though he well knew the disapproval with which 
Marie Antoinette regarded his way of life and his character, it is 
believed that he had had the insolence to approach her with the 
language of gallantry ; that he had been rejected with merited in- 
dignation ; and that he ever afterward regarded her noble disdain 
as a provocation which it should be the chief object of his life to 
revenge. In fact, on one occasion he did not scruple to avow his 
resentment at the way in which, as he said, she had treated him ; 
though he did not mention the reason.* 

Calumny was the only weapon which could be employed 
against her ; but in that he and his partisans had long been 
adepts. Every old libel and pretext for detraction was diligently 
revived. The old nickname of " The Austrian " was repeated with 
pertinacity as spiteful as causeless ; even the king's aunts lending 
their aid to swell the clamor on that ground, and often saying, 
with all the malice of their inveterate jealousy, that it was not to 
be expected that she should have the same feelings as their father 
or Louis XIV., since she was not of their blood, though it was 
plain that the same remark would have applied to every Queen 
of France since Anne of Brittany. Even the embarrassments of 
the revenue were imputed to her ; and she, who had curtailed her 
private expenses, even those which seemed almost necessary to 
her position, that she might minister more largely to the necessi- 
ties of the poor — who had declined to buy jewels that the money 
might be applied to the service of the State — was now held up 
to the populace as being by her extravagance the prime cause of 
the national distress. Pamphlets and caricatures gave her a new 
nickname of "Madame Deficit ;" and such an impression to her 
disfavor was thus made on the minds of the lower classes, that 
a painter, who had just finished an engaging portrait of her sur- 
rounded by her children, feared to send it to the exhibition, lest 
it should be made a pretext for insult and violence. Her un- 
popularity did not, indeed, last long at this time, but was super- 
seded, as we shall presently see, by fresh feelings of gratitude for 
fresh labors of charity ; nevertheless, the outcry now raised left 
its seed behind it, to grow hereafter into a more enduring harvest 
of distrust and hatred. 



* "Le due declarait de son cote h Mr. Elliott que si la reine I'eut. 

mieux traite 11 eut peut-etre mieux fait." — Chambrier, i.,p. 519. 

15 



226 LIFE OF 31 ABIE ANTOINETTE. 

She had troubles, too, of another kind whicli touched her more 
nearly. A second daughter, Sophie,* had been born to her in 
the summer of 1786 ; but she was a sickly child, and died, before 
she was a year old, of one of the illnesses to which children are 
subject, and for some months the mother mourned bitterly over 
her " little angel," as she called her. Her eldest boy, too, was 
getting rapidly and visibly weaker in health : his spine seemed to 
be diseased, and Marie Antoinette's only hope of saving him rest- 
ed on the fact that his father had also been delicate at the same 
age. Luckily his brother gave her no cause for uneasiness ; as 
she wrote to the emperorf — " he had all that his elder wanted ; 
he was a thorough peasant's child, tall, stout, and ruddy."J She 
had also another comfort, which, as her troubles thickened, be- 
came more and more precious to her, in the warm affection that 
had sprung up between her and her sister-in-law, 'the Princess 
Elizabeth. A letter§ has been preserved in which the princess 
describes the death of the little Sophie to one of her friends, 
which it is impossible to read without being struck by the sin- 
cerity of the sympathy with which she enters into the grief of 
the bereaved mother. In these moments of anguish she showed 
herself indeed a true sister, and, the two clinging to one another 
the more the greater their dangers and distresses became, a true 
sister she continued to the end. 

Meanwhile the embarrassments of the Government were daily 
assuming a more formidable appearance. Calonne had for some 
time endeavored to meet the deficiency of the revenue by raising 
fresh loans, till he had completely exhausted the national credit ; 
and at last had been forced to admit that the scheme originally 
propounded by Turgot, and subsequently in a more modified de- 
gree by Necker, of abolishing the exemptions from taxation which 
were enjoyed by the nobles — the privileged classes, as they were 
often called — was the only expedient to save the nation from the 
disgrace and ruin of total bankruptcy. But, as it seemed proba- 
ble that the nobles would resist such a measure, and that their re- 
sistance would prove too strong for him, as it had already been 
found to be for his predecessors, he proposed to the king to re- 

* Sophie Helene Beatrix, bom July 9th, 1Y86, died June 9th, 1787, F. de 
Conches, i., p. 195. 

f See her letter to her brother, February, 1788, Arneth, p. 112. 

X " C'est un vrai enfant de paysan, grand frais et gros." — ^Arneth, pp. 113. 

§ Feuillet de Conches, i., p. 195. 



HER OPINION OF THE NOTABLES. 227 

vive an old assembly which had been known by the title of the 
Notables ; trusting that, if he succeeded in obtaining the sanction 
of that body to his plans, the nobles would hardly venture to in- 
sist on maintaining their privileges in defiance of the recorded 
judgment of so respectable a council. His hopes were disap- 
pointed. He might fairly have reckoned on obtaining their con- 
currence, since it was the unquestioned prerogative of the king to 
nominate all the members ; but, even when he was most deliber- 
ate and resolute, his rashness and carelessness were incurable. He 
took no pains whatever to select members favorable to his views ; 
and the consequence was that, in March, 1787, in the very first 
month of the session of the Notables, the whole body protested 
against one of the taxes which he desired to impose ; and his 
enemies at once urged the king to dismiss him, basing their rec- 
ommendation on the practice of England, where, as they aflirmed, 
a minister who found himself in a minority on an important 
question immediately retired from oflSce. 

Marie Antoinette, who, as we have seen, had been a diligent 
reader of Hume, had also been led to compare the proceedings of 
the refractory Notables with the conduct of our English parlia- 
mentary parties, and to an English reader some of her comments 
can not fail to be as interesting as they are curious. The Duch- 
ess de Polignac was drinking the waters at Bath, which at that 
time was a favorite resort of French valetudinarians, and, while 
she was still in that most beautiful of English cities, the queen 
kept up an occasional correspondence with her. We have two 
letters which Marie Antoinette wrote to her in April ; one on the 
9th, the very day on which Calonne was dismissed ; the second, 
two days latter ; and even the passages which do not relate to 
politics have their interest as specimens of the writer's charac- 
ter, and of the sincere frankness with which she laid aside her 
rank and believed in the possibility of a friendship of complete 
equality. 

"April 9th, 1787. 

" I thank you, my dear heart, for your letter, which has done 
me good. I was anxious about you. It is true, then, that you 
have not suffered much from your journey. Take care of your- 
self, I insist on it, I beg of you ; and be sure and derive benefit 
from the waters, else I should repent of the privation I have in- 
flicted on myself without your health being benefited. When 
you are near I feel how much I love you; and I feel it much 



228 LIFE OF MAItlE ANTOINETTE. 

more when you are far away. I am greatly taken up with you 
and yours, and you would be very ungrateful if you did not love 
me, for I can not change toward you. 

" Where you are you can at least enjoy the comfort of never 
hearing of business. Although you are in the country of an Up- 
per and a Lower House, you can stop your ears and let people 
talk. But here it is a noise that deafens one in spite of all I can 
do. The words ' opposition ' and ' motions ' are established here 
as in the English Parliament, with this difference, that in London, 
when people go into opposition, they begin by denuding them- 
selves of the favors of the king ; instead of which, here numbers 
oppose all the wise and beneficent views of the most virtuous of 
masters, and still keep all he has given them. It may be a clever- 
er way of managing, but it is not so gentleman-like. The time of 
illusion is past, and we are tasting cruel experience. We are pay- 
ing dearly to-day for our zeal and enthusiasm for the American 
war. The voice of honest men is stifled by members and cabals. 
Men disregard principles to bind themselves to words, and to mul- 
tiply attacks on individuals. The seditious will drag the State to 
its ruin rather than renounce their intrigues." 

And in her second letter she specifies some of the Opposition 
by name ; one of whom, as will be seen hereafter, contributed 

greatly to her subsequent miseries " The repugnance which 

you know that I have always had to interfering in business is to- 
day put cruelly to the proof ; and you would be as tired as I am 
of all that goes on. I have already spoken to you of our Upper 
and Lower House,* and of all the absurdities which take place 
there, and of the nonsense which is talked. To be loaded with 
benefits by the king, like M. de Beauvau, to join the Opposition, 
and to surrender none of them, is what is called having spirit and 
courage. It is, in truth, the courage of infamy. I am wholly 
surrounded with folks who have revolted from him. A duke,f a 
great maker of motions, a man who has always a tear in his eye 
when he speaks, is one of the number. M. de La Fayette always 
founds the opinions he expresses on what is done at Philadel- 
phia Even bishops and archbishops belong to the Opposi- 
tion, and a great many of the clergy are the very soul of the 
cabal. You may judge, after this, of all the resources which they 
employ to overturn the plans of the king and his ministers." 

* Apparently she means the Notables and the Parliament, 
•j- The Due de Guines. 



CHARACTER OF LOMENIE BE BRIENNE. 229 

Calonne, however, as has already been intimated, had been dis- 
missed from office before this last letter was written. There had 
been a trial of strength between him and his enemies ; which he, 
believing that he had won the confidence of Louis himself, reck- 
oned on turning to his own advantage, by inducing the king to 
dismiss those of his opponents who were in office. To his aston- 
ishment, he found that Louis preferred dispensing with his own 
services, and the general voice was probably correct when it affirm- 
ed that it was the queen who had induced him to come to that 
decision. 

Lomenie de Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse, was again a can- 
didate for the vacant post, and De Vermond was as diligent as on 
the previous occasion* in laboring to return the obligations un- 
der which that prelate had formerly laid him, by extolling his 
abilities and virtues to the queen, and recommending him as a 
worthy successor to Calonne, whom she had never trusted or 
liked. In reality, the archbishop was wholly destitute of either 
abilities or virtues. He was notorious both for open profligacy 
and for avowed infidelity, so much so that Louis had refused to 
transfer him to the diocese of Paris, on the ground that " at least 
the archbishop of the metropolis ought to believe in God."f But 
Marie Antoinette was ignorant of his character, and believed De 
Vermond's assurance that the appointment of so high an ecclesi- 
astic would propitiate the clergy, whose opposition, as many of 
her letters prove, she thought specially formidable, and for whose 
support she knew her husband to be nervously anxious. Some 
of Calonne's colleagues strongly urged the king to re-appoint 
Necker, whose recall would have been highly popular with the 
nation. But Necker had recently given Louis personal offense by 
publishing a reply to some of Calonne's statements, in defiance of 
the king's express prohibition, and had been banished from Paris 
for the act ; and the queen, recollecting how he had formerly re- 
fused to withdraw his resignation at her entreaty, felt that she 
had no reason to expect any great consideration for the opinions 
or wishes of either herself or the king from one so conceited and 
self-willed, who would be likely to attribute his re-appointment, 
not to the king's voluntary choice, but to his necessities : she 

* See ante^ ch. xviii. 

f '"II f aut,' dit-il, avec un mouvement d'impatience qui lui fit honneur, 
" ' que, du moins, I'archeveque de Paris croie en Dieu.' " — Souvenirs par le Due 
de Levis, p. 102. 



230 LIFU OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

therefore strongly pressed that the archbishop should be prefer- 
red. In an unhappy moment she prevailed;* and on the 1st of 
May, 1787, Lomenie de Brienne was installed in office with the 
title of Chief of the Council of Finance. 

A more unhappy choice could not possibly have been made. 
The new minister was soon seen to be as devoid of information and 
ability as he was known to be of honesty. He had a certain grav- 
ity of outward demeanor which imposed upon many, and he had 
also the address to lead the conversation to points which his hear- 
ers understood still less than himself ; dilating on finance and the 
money market even to the ladies of the court, who had had some 
share in persuading the queen of his fitness for office.f But his 
disposition was in reality as rash as that of Calonne ; and it was 
a curious proof of his temerity, as well as of his ignorance of the 
feeling of parties in Paris, that though he knew the Notables to be 
friendly to him, as indeed they would have been to any one who 
might have superseded Calonne, he dismissed them before the end 
of the month. And the language held on their dissolution both 
by the ministers and by the President of the Notables, and which 
was cheerfully accepted by the people, is remarkable from the con- 
trast which it affords to the feelings which swayed the national 
council exactly two years afterward. Some measures of retrench- 
ment which the Notables had recommended had been adopted; 
some reductions had been made in the royal households; some 
costly ceremonies had been abolished ; and one or two imposts, 
which had pressed with great severity on the poorer classes, had 
been extinguished or modified. And not only did M. Lamoignon, 
the Keeper of the Seals, in the speech in which he dismissed them, 
venture to affirm that these reductions would be found to have ef- 
fected all that was needed to restore universal prosperity to the 
kingdom ; but the President of the Assembly, in his reply, thank- 
ed God " for having caused him to be born in such an age, under 
such a government, and for having made him the subject of a king 
whom he was constrained to love," and the thanksgiving was re- 
echoed by the whole Assembly. But this contentment did not 
last long. The embarrassments of the Treasury were too serious 
to be dissipated by soft speeches. The Notables were hardly dis- 

* The continuer of Sismondi's history, A. Renee, however, attributes the 
archbishop's appointment to the influence of the Baron de Breteuil. 

f "Son grand art consistait a parler ^ chacun des choses qu'il croyait 
qu'on ignorait." — De Levis, p. 100. 



VIOLENCE OF THE PARLIAMENT. 231 

solved before the archbisliop proposed a new loan of an enormous 
amount ; and, as lie might have foreseen, their dissolution revived 
the pretensions of the Parliament. The queen's description of 
the rise of a French opposition at once received a practical com- 
mentary. The debates in the Parliament became warmer than 
they had ever been since the days of the Fronde : the citizens, 
sharing in the excitement, thronged the palace of the Parliament, 
expressing their approval or disapproval of the different speakers 
by disorderly and unprecedented clamor ; the great majority hoot- 
ing down the minister and his supporters, and cheering those who 
spoke against him. The Due d'Orleans, by open bribes, gained 
over many of the councilors to oppose the court in every thing. 
The registration of several of the edicts which the minister had 
sent down was refused ; and one member of the Orleanist party 
even demanded the convocation of the States - general, formerly 
and constitutionally the great council of the nation, but which 
had never been assembled since the time of Richelieu. 

The archbishop was sometimes angry, and sometimes terrified, 
and as weak in his anger as in his terror. He persuaded the king 
to hold a bed of justice to compel the registration of the edicts. 
When the Parliament protested, he banished it to Troyes. In less 
than a month he became alarmed at his own vigor, and recalled it. 
Encouraged by his pusillanimity, and more secure than ever of the 
support of the citizens who had been thrown into consternation by 
his demand of a second loan, nearly* six times as large as the first, 
it became more audacious and defiant than ever, D'Orleans openly 
placing himself at the head of the malcontents. Lomenie per- 
suaded the king to banish the duke, and to arrest one or two of 
his most vehement partisans ; and again in a few weeks repented 
of this act of decision also, released the prisoners, and recalled the 
duke. 

As a matter of course, the Parliament grew bolder still. Every 
measure which the minister proposed was rejected ; and under the 
guidance of one of their members, Duval d'Espremesnil, the coun- 
cilors at last proceeded so far as to take the initiative in new legis- 
lation into their own hands. In the first week in May, 1788, they 
passed a series of resolutions affirming that to be the law which 
indeed ought to have been so, but which had certainly never been 

* The loan he proposed in June was eighty millions (of francs) ; in October, 
that which he demanded was four hundred and forty millions. 



232 LIFE OF 3IAEIE ANTOINETTE. 

regarded as sucli at any period of French history. One declared 
that magistrates were irremovable, except in cases of misconduct ; 
another, that the individual liberty and property of every citizen 
were inviolable ; others insisted on the necessity of convoking the 
States-general as the only assembly entitled to impose taxes ; and 
the councilors hoped to secure the royal acceptance of these reso- 
lutions by some previous votes which asserted that, of those laws 
which were the very foundation of the Constitution, the first was 
that which assured the " crown to the reigning house and to its 
descendants in the male line, in the order of primogeniture."* 

But Louis, or rather his rash minister, was not to be so concil- 
iated ; and a scene ensued which is the first of the striking paral- 
lels which this period in France affords to the events which had 
taken place in England a century and a half before. As in 1642 
Charles I. had attempted to arrest members of the English Parlia- 
ment in the very House of Commons, so the archbishop now per- 
suaded Louis to send down the captain of the guard, the Marquis 
d'Agoust, to the palace of the Parliament, to seize D'Espremesnil, 
and another councilor named Montsabert, who had been one of 
his foremost supporters in the recent discussions. They behaved 
with admirable dignity. Marie Antoinette was not one to betray 
her husband's counsels, as Henrietta Maria had betrayed those of 
Charles. D'Espremesnil and his friend, wholly taken by surprise, 
had had no warning of what was designed, no time to withdraw, 

* It is worth noticing that the French people in general did not regard the 
power of arbitrary imprisonment exercised by their kings as a grievance. In 
their eyes it was one of his most natural prerogatives. A year or two before 
the time of which we are speaking, Dr. Moore, the author of " Zeluco," and fa- 
ther of Sir John Moore, who fell at Corunna, was traveling in France, and was 
present at a party of French merchants and others of the same rank, who ask- 
ed him many questions about the English Constitution. When he said that 
the King of England could not impose a tax by his own authority, "they said, 

with some degree of satisfaction, 'Cependant c'est assez beau cela.' " 

But when he informed them " that the king himself had not the power to en- 
croach upon the liberty of the meanest of his subjects, and that if he or the 
minister did so, damages were recoverable in a court of law, a loud and pro- 
longed * Diable !' issued from every mouth. They forgot their own situation, 
and turned to their natural bias of sympathy with the king, who, they all 
seemed to think, must be the most oppressed and injured of manhood. One 
of them at last, addressing himself to the English politician, said, ' Tout ce 
que je puis vous dire, monsieur, c'est que votre pauvre roi est bien k plain- 
dre.' " — A View of tlie Society and Manner's in France, etc., by Dr. John Moore, 
vol. i., p. 47, ed. 1Y93. 



ARBEST OF THE COUNCILORS. 233 

nor in all probability would tbey bave done so in any case. 
Wben M. d'Agoust entered tbe council ball and demanded bis 
prisoners, tbere was a great uproar. Tbe wbole Assembly made 
common cause witb tbeir two bretbren wbo were tbus tbreatened. 
" We are all d'Espremesnils and Montsaberts," was their unani- 
mous cry ; wbile tbe tumult at tb*e doors, where a vast multitude 
was collected, many of whom had arms in their bands and seemed 
prepared to use them, was more formidable still. But D'Agoust, 
though courteous in tbe discbarge of bis duty, was intrepid and 
firm ; and tbe two members voluntarily surrendered themselves 
and retired in custody, wbile tbe archbishop was so elated with 
bis triumph that a few days afterward he induced the king to 
venture on another imitation of tbe history of England, though 
now it was not Charles, but the more tyrannical Cromwell, whose 
conduct was copied. Before tbe end of the month the Governor 
of Paris entered the palace of the Parliament, seized all tbe reg- 
isters and documents of every kind, locked tbe doors, and closed 
them with the king's seal ; and a royal edict was issued suspend- 
ing all tbe parliaments both in the capital and the provinces. 



234 LIFJE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

Formidable Riots take place in some Provinces. — The Archbishop invites 
Necker to join his Ministry. — Letter of Marie Antoinette describing her 
Interview with the Archbishop, and her Views. — Necker refuses. — The 
Queen sends Messages to Necker. — The Archbishop resigns, and Necker 
becomes Minister. — The Queen's View of his Character. — General Rejoicing. 
— Defects in Necker's Character. — He recalls the Parliament. — Riots in 
Paris. — Severe Winter. — General Distress. — Charities of the King and 
Queen. — Gratitude of the Citizens. — The Princes are concerned in the Li- 
bels published against the Queen. — Preparations for the Meeting of the 
States-general. — Long Disuse of that Assembly. — Need of Reform. — Vices 
of the Old Feudal System. — Necker's Blunders in the Arrangements for the 
Meeting of the States. — An Edict of the King concedes the Chief Demands 
of the Commons. — Views of the Queen. 

The whole kingdom was thrown into great and dangerous ex- 
citement by these transactions. Little as were the benefits which 
the people had ever derived from the conduct of the Parliament, 
their opposition to the archbishop, who had already had time to 
make himself generally hated and despised, caused the councilors 
to be very generally regarded as champions of liberty ; and in 
the most distant provinces, in Beam, in Isere, and in Brittany, 
public meetings (a thing hitherto unknown in the history of the 
nation) were held, remonstrances were drawn up, confederacies 
were formed, and oaths were administered by which those who 
took them bound themselves never to surrender what they affirm- 
ed to be the ancient privileges of the nation. 

The archbishop became alarmed ; a little, perhaps, for the na- 
tion and the king, but far more for his own place, which he had 
already contrived to render profitable to himself by the prefer- 
ments which it had enabled him to engross. And, in the hope 
of saving it, he now entreated Necker to join the Government, 
proposing to yield up the management of the finances to him, 
and to retain only the post of prime minister. 

A letter from the queen to Mercy shows that she acquiesced 
in the scheme. Her disapproval of Necker's past conduct was 
outweighed by her sense of the need which the State had of his 



HER OPINION OF DIFFERENT STATESMEN. 235 

financial talents ; tliough, for reasons wLicli she explains, she was 
unwilling wholly to sacrifice the archbishop ; and the letter has a 
further interest as displaying some of the difiiculties which arose 
from the peculiar disposition of the king, while every one was 
daily more and moi'e learning to look upon her as the more im- 
portant person in the Government. On the 19th of August, 1Y88, 
she writes to Mercy,* whom the archbishop had employed as his 
agent to conciliate the stubborn Swiss banker : 

" The archbishop came to me this morning, immediately after 
he had seen you, to report to me the conversation which he had 
had with you. I spoke to him very frankly, and was touched by 
what he said. He is at this moment with the king, to try and 
get him to decide ; but I very much fear that M. Necker will not 
accept while the archbishop remains. The animosity of the pub- 
lic against him is pushed so far that M. Necker will be afraid of 
being compromised, and, indeed, perhaps it might injure his cred- 
it ; but, at the same time, what is to be done ? In truth and con- 
science we can not sacrifice a man who has made for us all these 
sacrifices of his reputation, of his position in the world, perhaps 
even of his life ; for I fear they would kill him. There is yet M. 
Foulon, if M. Necker refuses absolutely.f But I suspect him of 
being a very dishonest man ; and confidence would not be estab- 
lished with him for comptroller. I fear, too, that the public is 
pressing us to take a part much more humiliating for the minis- 
ters, and much more vexatious for ourselves, inasmuch as we shall 
have done nothing of our own will. I am very unhappy. I will 
close my letter after I know the result of this evening's confer- 
ence. I gTeatly fear the archbishop will be forced to retire alto- 
gether, and then what man are we to take to place at the head of 
the whole ? For we must have one, especially with M. Necker. 
He must have a bridle ; and the person who is above mej is not 
able to be such ; and I, whatever people may say, and whatever 
happens, am never any thing but second ; and, in spite of the 
confidence which the first has in me, he often makes me feel 
it The archbishop has just gone. The king is very unwill- 

* Feuillet de Conches, i., p. 205. 

f M. Foulon was about this time made paymaster of the army and navy, 
and was generally credited with ability as a financier ; but he was unpopular, 
as a man of ardent and cruel temper, and was brutally murdered by the mob 
in one of the first riots of the Revolution. 

X The king. 



236 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

ing ; and could only be brought to make up his mind by a prom- 
ise that the person* should only be sounded ; and that no positive 
engagement should be made." 

Necker refused. The next day Mercy reported to the queen 
that, though the excitement was great, it confined itself to de- 
nunciations of the archbishop and of the keeper of the seals ; and 
that "the name of the queen had never once been mentioned;" 
and on the 2 2d, Marie Antoinette,f from a conviction of the 
greatness of the emergency, determined to see Necker herself ; 
and employed the embassador and De Vermond to let him know 
that her own wish for his restoration to the direction of the 
finances was sincere and earnest, and to promise him that the arch- 
bishop should not interfere in that department in any way what- 
ever. Two days later, J she wrote again to mention that the king 
had vanquished his repugnance to Necker, and had come wholly 
over to her opinion. "Time pressed, and it was more essential 
than ever that Necker should accept ;" and on the 25th she writes 
a final letter to report to Mercy that the archbishop has resigned, 
and that she has just summoned Necker to come to her the next 
morning. Though she felt that she had done what was both 
right and indispensable, she was not without misgivings. " If," 
she writes, in a strain of anxious despondency very foreign to her 
usual tone, and which shows how deeply she felt the importance 
of the crisis, and of every step that might be taken — "if he will 
but undertake the task, it is the best thing that can be done ; but 
I tremble (excuse my weakness) at the fact that it is I who have 
brought him back. It is my fate to bring misfortune, and, if in- 
fernal machinations should cause him once more to fail, or if he 
should lower the authority of the king, they will hate me still 
more." 

In one point of view she need not have trembled at being 
known to have caused Necker's re-appointment, since it is plain 
that no other nomination was possible. Vergennes had died a 
few months before, and the whole kingdom did not supply a 
single statesman of reputation except Necker. Nor could any 
choice have for the moment been more universally popular. The 
citizens illuminated Paris ; the mob burned the archbishop in effi- 
gy ; and the leading merchants and bankers showed their ap- 

* Necker. f Feuillet de Conches, i.,p. 214. \ Ibid., p. 21*7. 



RESULTS OF NECKEB' S RESUMPTION OF OFFICE. 237 

proval in a far more practical way. The funds rose ;■ loans to 
any amount were freely offered to tlie Treasury ; the national 
credit revived ; as if the solvency or insolvency of the nation de- 
pended on a single man, and him a foreigner. 

Yet, if regarded in any point of view except that of a financier, 
he was extremely unfit to be the minister at such a crisis ; and 
the queen's acuteness had, in the extract from her letter which 
has been quoted above, correctly pointed out the danger to be 
apprehended, namely, that he might lower the authority of the 
king.* It was, in fact, to his uniform and persistent degradation 
of the king's authority that the greater part, if not the whole, of 
the evils which ensued may be clearly traced, and the cause that led 
him to adopt this fatal system was thoroughly visible to one gift- 
ed with such intuitive penetration into character as Marie Antoi- 
nette. For he had two great defects or weaknesses ; an overween- 
ing vanity, which, as it valued applause above every thing, led him 
to regard the popularity which they might win for him as the nat- 
ural motive and the surest test of his actions ; and an abstract be- 
lief in human perfection and in the submission of all classes to 
strict reason, which could only proceed from a total ignorance of 
mankind. f Yet, greatly as financial skill was needed, if the king- 
dom was to be saved from the bankruptcy which seemed to be 
imminent, it was plain that a faculty for organization and legis- 
lation was no less indispensable if the vessel of the State was to 
be steered safely along the course on which it was entering ; for 
the archbishop's last act had been to induce the king to promise 
to convoke the States-general. The 1st of May of the ensuing 
year was fixed for their meeting ; and the arrangements for and 
the management of an assembly, which, as not having met for 
nearly two hundred years, could not fail to present many of the 

* On one occasion when the Marquis de Bouille pointed out to him the dan- 
ger of some of his plans as placing the higher class at the mercy of the mob, 
" dirige par les deux passions les plus actives du coeur humain, I'interet et 

I'amour propre, il me repondit froidement, en levant les yeux au ciel, qu'il 

fallait bien compter sur les vertus morales des hommes." — Memoires de M. de 
Bouille, p. VO ; and Madame de Stael admits of her father that he was " se 
fiant ti'op, il faut I'avouer, h I'empire de la raison," and adds that he " etudia 
constamment I'esprit public, comme la boussole k laquelle les decisions du roi 
devaient se conformer." — Cmisiderations sur la Revolution Frangaise, i., pp. 
1'71,1'72. 

f Her exact words are "si il fasse reculer I'autorite du roi" (if he 

causes the king's authority to retreat before the populace or the Parhament). 



238 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

features of an entire novelty, were a task which would have se- 
verely tested the most statesman-like capacity. 

But, unhappily, Necker's very first acts showed him equally 
void of resolution and of sagacity. He was not only unable to 
estimate the probable conduct of the people in future, but he 
showed himself incapable of profiting by the experience of the 
past ; and, in spite of the insubordinate spirit which the Parlia- 
ment had at all times displayed, he at once recalled them in defer- 
ence to the clamor of the Parisian citizens, and allowed them to 
enter Paris in a triumphal procession, as if his very object had 
been to parade their victory over the king's authority. Their re- 
turn was the signal for a renewal of riots, which assumed a more 
formidable character than ever. The police, and even the guard- 
houses, were attacked in open day, and the Grovernment had rea- 
son to suspect that the money which was employed in fomenting 
the tumults was supplied by the Due d' Orleans. A fierce mob trav- 
ersed the streets at night, terrifying the peaceable inhabitants 
with shouts of triumph over the king as having been compelled 
to recall the Parliament against his will ; while those who were 
supposed to be adverse to the pretensions of the councilors were 
insulted in the streets, and branded as Royalists, the first time in 
the history of the nation that ever that name had been used as a 
term of reproach. 

Yet, presently the whole body of citizens, with their habitual 
impulsive facility of temper, again, for a while, became Royalists. 
The winter was one of unprecedented severity. By the begin- 
ning of December the Seine was frozen over, and the whole adja- 
cent country was buried in deep snow. Wolves from the neigh- 
boring forests, desperate with hunger, were said to have made 
their way into the suburbs, and to have attacked people in the 
streets. Food of every kind became scarce, and of the poorer 
classes many were believed to have died of actual starvation. 
Necker, as head of the Government, made energetic and judicious 
efforts to relieve the universal distress, forming magazines in dif- 
ferent districts, facilitating the means of transport, finding em- 
ployment for vast numbers of laborers and artisans, and purchas- 
ing large quantities of grain in foreign countries ; and, not only 
were Louis and Marie Antoinette conspicuous for the unstinting 
liberality with which they devoted their own funds to the supply 
of the necessities of the destitute, but the qiieen, in many cases 
of unusual or pressing suffering that were reported to her in Ver- 



CHARITY OF THE QUEEK 239 

sailles and the neighboring villages, sent trustworthy persons to 
investigate them, and in numerous instances went herself to the 
cottages, making personal inquiries into the condition of the oc- 
cupants, and showing not only a feeling heart, but a considerate 
and active kindness, which doubled the value of her benefactions 
by the gracious, thoughtful manner in which they were bestowed. 
She would willingly have done the good she did in secret, part- 
ly from her constant feeling that charity was not charity if it 
were boasted of, partly from a fear that those ready to miscon- 
strue all her acts would find pretexts for evil and calumny even in 
her bounty. One of her good deeds struck Necker as of so re- 
markable a character that he pressed her to allow him to make it 
known. " Be sure, on the contrary," she replied, " that you never 
mention it. What good could it do? they would not believe 
you;"* but in this she was mistaken. Her charities were too 
widely spread to escape the knowledge even of those who did not 
profit by them ; and they had their reward, though it was but a 
short-lived one. Though the majority of her acts of personal 
kindness were performed in Versailles rather than in Paris, the 
Parisians were as vehement in their gratitude as the Versaillese ; 
and it found a somewhat fantastic vent in the erection of pyra- 
mids and obelisks of snow in different quarters of the city, all 
bearing inscriptions testifying the citizens' sense of her benevo- 
lence. One, which far exceeded all its fellows in size — the chief 
beauty of works of that sort — since it was fifteen feet high, and 
each of the four faces was twelve feet wide at the base, was dec- 
orated with a medallion of the royal pair, and bore a poetical in- 
scription commemorating the cause of its erection : 

" Reine, dont la beaute surpasse les appas 
Pr^s d'lin roi bienfaisant occupe ici la place. 
Si ce monument frele est de neige et de glace, 

Nos coeurs pour toi ne le sont pas. 

De ce monument sans exemple, 
Couple auguste, I'aspect bien doux pour votre coeur 
Sans doute vous plaira plus qu'un palais, qu'un tenjple 

Que vous eleverait un peuple adulateur."f 

Neither the queen's feelings nor her conduct had been in any 
way altered ; but six months later the same populace who raised 

* "Histoire de Marie Antoinette," par M. Montjoye, p. 202. 
f Madame de Campan, p. 412. 



240 LIFE OF If ARTE ANTOINETTE. 

this monument and applauded these verses were, with ferocious 
and obscene threats, clamoring for her blood. And there is hard- 
ly any thing more strange or more grievous in the history of the 
nation, hardly any greater proof of that incurable levity which 
was one great cause of the long series of miseries which soon, fell 
upon it, than that the impressions of gratitude which were so 
vivid at the moment, and so constantly revived by the queen's un- 
tiring benevolence, could yet be so easily effaced by the acts of 
demagogues and libelers, whom the people thoroughly despised 
even while suffering themselves to be led by them. How gTcat a 
part in these libels was borne by those who were bound by ev- 
ery tie of blood to the king to be his warmest supporters, we 
have a remarkable proof in an Edict of Council which was issued 
during the ministry of the archbishop, and which deprived the 
palaces of the Count de Provence, the Count d'Artois, and the 
Due d'Orleans of their usual exemption from the investigation of 
the syndics of the library, as those officers were called whose 
duty it was to search all suspected places for libelous or seditious 
pamphlets ; the reason publicly given for this edict being that 
the dwellings of these three princes were a perfect arsenal for the 
issue of publications contrary to the laws, to morality, and to re- 
ligion.* 

With the return of spring, the severity of the' distress began 
to pass away. But, even while it lasted, it scarcely diverted the 
attention of the middle classes from the preparations for the ap- 
proaching meeting of the States-general, from which the whole 
people, with few exceptions, promised themselves great advan- 
tages, though comparatively few had formed any precise notion of 
the benefits which they expected, or of the mode in which they 
were to be attained. The States-general had been originally es- 
tablished in the same age which saw the organization of our own 
Parliament, with very nearly the same powers, though the mem- 
bers had more of the narrower character of delegates of their con- 
stituents than was the case in England, where they were more 
wisely regarded as representatives of the entire nation. f And it 

* This edict was registered in the "Chambre Syndicale," September 13th, 
178*7. — La Heine Marie Antoinette et la Rev. Frangaise, Recherches HiMoriques, 
par le Comte de Bel-Castel, p. 246. 

f There is at the present moment so strong a pretension set up in many con- 
stituencies to dictate to the members whom they send to Parliament as if they 
were delegates, and not representatives, that it is worth while to refer to the 



ADMITTED NECESSITY OF REFORM. 241 

was an acknowledged principle of their constitution that they 
could neither propose any measure nor ask for the redress of any 
grievance which was not expressly mentioned in the instructions 
with which their constituents furnished them at the time of their 
election. 

In England, the two Houses of Parliament, by a vigilant and 
systematic perseverance, had gradually extorted from the sovereign 
a great and progressive enlargement of their original powers, till 
they had almost engrossed the entire legislative authority in the 
kingdom. But in France, a variety of circumstances had prevent- 
ed the States -general from arriving at a similar development. 
And, consequently, as in human afEairs very little is stationary, 
their authority had steadily diminished, instead of increasing, till 
they had become so powerless and utterly insignificant that, since 
the year 1615, they had never once been convened. Not only 
had they been wholly disused, but they seemed to have been 
wholly forgotten. During the last two reigns no one had ever 
mentioned their name ; much less had any wish been expressed 
for their resuscitation, till the financial difficulties of the Govern- 
ment, and the general and growing discontent of the great major- 
ity of the nation, with which, since the death of Turgot, every 
successive minister had been manifestly incompetent to deal, had, 
as we have seen, led some ardent reformers to demand their resto- 

opinion which the greatest of philosophical statesmen, Edmund Burke, ex- 
pressed on the subject a hundred years ago, in opposition to that of a rival 
candidate who admitted and supported the claim of constituents to furnish 
the member whom they returned to Parliament with " instructions " of " co- 
ercive authority." He tells the citizens of Bristol plainly that such a claim 
he ought not to admit, and never will. The " opinion of constituents is a 
weighty and respectable opinion, which a representative ought always to re- 
joice to hear, and which he ought most seriously to consider ; but authorita- 
tive instruction^ mandates issued which the member is bound blindly and im- 
plicitly to obey, to vote, and to argue for, though contrary to the clearest con- 
viction of his judgment and his conscience ; these are things utterly unknown 
to the laws of this land, and which arise from a fundamental mistake of the 
whole order and tenor of our constitution. Parliament is not a congress of 
embassadors from different and hostile interests but Parliament is Si delib- 
erative assembly of one nation, with one interest, that of the whole, where not 
local purposes, not local prejudices ought to guide, but the general good re- 
sulting from the general reason of the whole. You choose a member indeed ; 
but when you have chosen him, he is not member of Bristol, but he is a mem- 
ber of Parliament." — General Election Speech at the Conchmo7i of the Foil at 
Bristol, November 3d, 17Y4, Burke's Works, vol. iii., pp. 19, 20, ed. 1803. 

16 



242 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

ration, as the one expedient whicli had not been tried, and which, 
therefore, had this in its favor, that it was not condemned by pre- 
vious failure. 

That great reforms were indispensable was admitted in every 
quarter. There was no country in Europe where the feudal sys- 
tem had received so little modification.* Every law seemed to 
have been made, and evefy custom to have been established for 
the exclusive benefit of the nobles. They were even exempted 
from many of the taxes, an exemption which was the more intol- 
erable from the vast number of persons who were included in the 
list. Practically it may be said that there were two classes of no- 
bles — the old historic houses, as they were sometimes called, such 
as the Grammonts or Montmorencies, which were not numerous, 
and many of which had greatly decayed in wealth and influence ; 
and an inferior class whose nobility was derived from their pos- 
session of office under the crown in any part of the kingdom. 
Even tax-gatherers and surveyors, if appointed by royal warrant, 
could claim the rank ; and new offices were continually being cre- 
ated and sold which conferred the same title. Those so ennobled 
were not reckoned the equals of the higher class. They could 
not even be received at court until their patents were four hun- 
dred years old, but they had a right to vote as nobles at elections 
to any representative body. Those whose patents were twenty- 
four years old could be elected as representatives ; and from the 
moment of their creation they all enjoyed great exemptions ; so 
that, as the lowest estimate reckoned their numbers at a hundred 
thousand, it is a matter for some wonder how the taxes to which 
they did not contribute produced any thing worth collecting. It 
was, of course, manifest that the exemptions enormously increased 
the burden to be borne by the classes which did not enjoy such 
privileges. 

But, heavy as the grievance of these exemptions was, it was as 
nothing when compared with the feudal rights claimed by the 
greater nobles. The peasants on their estates were forced to 
grind their corn at the lord's mill, to press their grapes at his 
wine-press, paying for such act whatever price he might think fit 
to exact, and often having their crops wholly wasted or spoiled by 
the delays which such a system engendered. The game-laws for- 

* De Tocqueville considers the feudal system in France in many points 
more oppressive than that of Germany. — Anden Regime, p. 43. 



ABBITRARY POWEBS OF THE SOVEREIGN. 243 

bade them to weed their fields lest they should disturb the young 
partridges or leverets ; to manure the soil with any thing which 
might injure their flavor; or even to mow or reap till the grass 
or corn was no longer required as shelter for the young coveys. 
Some of the rights of seigniory, as it was called, were such as can 
hardly be mentioned in this more decorous age ; some were so 
ridiculous that it is inconceivable how their very absurdity had 
not led to their abolition. In the marshy districts of Brittany, 
one right enjoyed by the great nobles was " the silence of the 
frogs,"* which, whenever the lady was confined, bound the peas- 
ants to spend their days and nights in beating the swamps with 
long poles to save her from being disturbed by their inharmonious 
croaking. And if this or any other feudal right was dispensed 
with, it was only commuted for a money payment, which was lit- 
tle less burdensome. 

The powers exercised by the crown were more intolerable still. 
The sovereign was absolute master of the liberties of his subjects. 
Without alleging the commission of any crime, he could issue 
warrants — letters under seal, as they were called — which consign- 
ed the person named in them to imprisonment, which was often 
perpetual. The unhappy prisoner had no power of appeal. No 
judge could inquire into his case, much less release him. The ar- 
rests were often made with such secrecy and rapidity that his 
nearest relations knew not what had become of him, but he was 
cut off from the outer world, for the rest of his life, as completely 
as if he had at once been handed over to the executioner, f 

It was impossible but that such customs should produce general 

* Silence des grenouilles. Arthur Young, " Travels in France during lYST, 
'88, '89," p. 53*7. It is a singular proof how entirely research into the condition 
of the country and the people of France had been neglected both by its phi- 
losophers and its statesmen, that there does not seem to have been any pub- 
lication in the language which gave information on these subjects. And this 
work of Mr. Young's is the one to which modern French writers, such as M. 
Alexis de Tocqueville, chiefly refer. 

f " The lettres de cachet were carried to an excess hardly credible ; to the 
length of being sold, with blanks, to be filled up with names at the pleasure 
of the purchaser, who was thus able, in the gratification of private revenge, to 
tear a man from the bosom of his family, and bury him in a dungeon, where 
he would exist forgotten and die unknown." — A. Young, p. 532. And in a 
note he gives an instance of an Englishman, named Gordon, who was im- 
prisoned in the Bastile for thirty years without even knowing the reason of 
his arrest. • 



244 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

discontent, and a resolute demand for a complete reformation of 
the system. And one of the problems which the minister had to 
determine was, how to organize the States-general so that they 
should be disposed to- promote such measures of reform as should 
be adequate without being excessive ; as should give due protec- 
tion to the middle and lower classes without depriving the no- 
bles of that dignity and authority which were not only desirable 
for themselves, but useful to their dependents ; and, lastly, such as 
should carefully preserve the rightful prerogatives of the crown, 
while putting an end to those arbitrary powers, the existence of 
which was incompatible with the very name of freedom. 

In making the necessary arrangements, the long disuse of the 
Assembly was a circumstance greatly in favor of the G-overnment, 
if Necker had had skill to avail himself of it, since it wholly freed 
him from the obligation of being guided by former precedents. 
Those arrangements were long and warmly debated in the king's 
council. Though the records of former sessions had been so 
carelessly preserved that little was known of their proceedings, it 
seemed to be established that the representatives of the Commons 
had usually amounted to about four -tenths of the whole body, 
those of the clergy and of the nobles being each about three- 
tenths ; and that they had almost invariably deliberated and voted 
in separate chambers; and the princes and the chief nobles pre- 
sented memorials to the king, in which they almost unanimously 
recommended an adherence to these ancient forms; while, with 
patriotic prudence, they sought to obviate all jealousy of their 
own pretensions or views which might be entertained or feigned 
in any quarter, by announcing their willingness to abandon all 
the exclusive privileges and exemptions which they had hitherto 
possessed, and which were notoriously one chief cause of the gen- 
erally prevailing discontent. 

But the party which had originated the clamor for the States- 
general, now, encouraged by their success, put forward two fresh 
demands ; the first, that the number of the representatives of the 
Commons should equal that of both the other orders put togeth- 
er, which they called " the duplication of the Third Estate ;" the 
second, that the three orders should meet and vote as one united 
body in one chamber ; the two propositions taken together being 
manifestly calculated and designed to throw the whole power into 
the hands of the Commons. 

Necker had great doubts about the propriety and safety of the 



NECKEB AIMS AT POPULARITY. 245 

first proposal, and no doubt at all of the danger of the second. 
His own judgment was that the wisest plan would be to order the 
clergy and nobles to unite in an Upper Chamber, so as in some 
degree to resemble the British House of Lords ; while the Third 
Estate, in a Lower Chamber, would be a tolerably faithful copy 
of our House of Commons. But he could never bring himself 
to risk his popularity by opposing what he regarded as the opin- 
ion of the masses. He was alarmed by the political clubs which 
were springing up in Paris ; one, whose president was the Due 
d'Orleans, assuming the significant and menacing title of Les 
Enrages ;* and by the vast number of pamphlets which were cir- 
culated both in the capital and the chief towns of the provinces 
by thousands,! every writer of which put himself forward as a 
legislator,^ and of which the vast majority advocated what they 
called the rights of the Third Estate, in most violent language; 
and, finally, he adopted the course which is a great favorite with 
vain and weak men, and which he probably represented to him- 
self as a compromise between unqualified concession and unyield- 
ing resistance, though every one possessed of the slightest pene- 
tration could see that it practically surrendered both points : he 
advised the king to issue his edict that the number of representa- 
tives to be returned to the States-general should be twelve hun- 
dred, half of whom were to be returned by the Commons, a 
quarter by the clergy, and a quarter by the nobles ;§ and to post- 
pone the decision as to the number of the chambers till the As- 

* Arthur Young, writing January 10th, 1*790, identifies Les Enrages with 
the club afterward so infamous as the Jacobins. " Tlie ardent democrats 
who have the reputation of being so much repubUcan in principle that they 
do not admit any political necessity for having even the name of a king, are 
called the Enrages. They have a meeting at the Jacobins', the Revolution 
Club which assembles every night in the very room in which the famous 
League was formed in the reign of Henry IIL" (p. 267). 

f M. Droz asserts that a collector of such publications bought two thou- 
sand five hundred in the last three months of 1Y88, and that his collection 
was far from complete. — Histoire de Louis XVI., u., p. 180. 

\ " Tout auteur s'erige en legislateur." — Memorial of the Princes to the King, 
quoted in a note to the last chapter of Sismondi's History, p. 551, Brussels ed., 
1849. 

§ In reality the numbers were even more in favor of the Commons : the 
representatives of the clergy were three hundred and eight, and those of the 
nobles two hundred and eighty-five, making only five hundred and ninety- 
three of the two superior orders, while the deputies of the Tiers-Etat were six 
hundred and twenty-one. — Souvenirs de la Marquise de Crequy, vii., p. 58. 



246 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

sembly should meet, when he proposed to allow the States them- 
selves to determine it ; trusting, against all probability, that, after 
havino- thus given the Commons the power to enforce their own 
views, he should be able to persuade them to abandon the same 
in deference to his judgment. 

Louis, as a matter of course, adopted his advice ; and, after 
several different towns — Blois, Tours, Cambrai, and Compiegne 
among them — had been proposed as the place of meeting, he him- 
self decided in favor of Versailles,* as that which would afford 
him the best hunting while the session lasted. The queen in her 
heart disapproved of every one of these resolutions. She saw 
that Necker had, as she had foreboded, sacrificed the king's au- 
thority by his advice on the two first questions ; and she per- 
ceived more clearly than any one the danger of fixing the States- 
general so near to Paris that the turbulent population of the city 
should be able to overawe the members. She pressed these con- 
siderations earnestly on the king,f but it was characteristic of the 
course which she prescribed to herself from the beginning, and 
from which she never swerved, that when her advice was over- 
ruled she invariably defended the course which had been taken. 
Her language, when any one spoke to her either of her own opin- 
ions and wishes, or of the feelings with which the different classes 
of the nation regarded her, was invariably the same. " You are 
not to think of me for a moment. All that I desire of you is to 
take care that the respect which is due to the king shall not be 
weakened ;"J and it was only her most intimate friends who knew 
how unwise she thought the different decisions that had been 
adopted, or how deep were her forebodings of evil. 

* " Se levant alors, ' Non,' dit le roi, ' ce ne peut etre qu'^ Versailles, £1 
cause des chasses.' " — Louis Blanc, ii., p. 212, quoting Barante. 

f "La reine adopta ce dernier avis [that the States should meet forty or 
sixty leagues from the capital], et elle insista aupres du roi que I'on s'eloi- 
gnat de I'immense population de Paris. Elle craignait des lors que le peuple 
n'influen9at les deliberations des deputes." — Madame de Campan, ch. 83. 

\ Chambrier, i., p. 562. 



THE BEYEILLON RIOT. 247 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Reveillon Riot. — Opening of the States-general. — The Queen is insulted 
by the Partisans of the Due d'Orleans. — Discussions as to the Number of 
Chambers. — Career and Character of Mirabeau. — Necker rejects his Sup- 
port. — He determines to revenge himself. — Death of the Dauphin. 

The meeting of the States-general, as has been already seen, 
was fixed for the 4th of May, 1789 ; and, as if it were fated that 
the bloody character of the period now to be inaugurated should 
be displayed from the very outset, the elections for the city of 
Paris, which were only held in the preceding week, were stained 
with a riot so formidable as to be commonly spoken of in the 
records of the time as an insurrection.* 

One of the candidates for the representation of the Third Es- 
tate was a paper-maker of the name of Reveillon, a man eminent 
for his charity and general liberality, but one who was believed to 
regard the views of the extreme reformers with disfavor. He 
was so popular with his own workmen, who were very numerous, 
and with their friends, who knew his character from them, that 
he was generally expected to succeed. The opposite party, who 
had candidates of their own, and had the support of the purse of 
the Due d'Orleans, were determined that he should not ; and no 
way seemed so sure as to murder him. Bands of ferocious-look- 
ing ruffians were brought in from the country districts, armed 
with heavy bludgeons, and, as was afterward learned, well supplied 
with money ; and on the morning of the 28th of April news was 
brought to the Baron de Besenval, the commander of the Royal 
Guards, that a mob of several thousand men had collected in the 
streets, who had read a mock sentence, professing to have been 
passed by the Third Estate, which condemned Reveillon to be 
hanged, after which they had burned him in efiigy, and then at- 
tacked his house, which they were sacking and destroying. They 
even ventured to attack the first company of soldiers whom De 
Besenval sent to the rescue ; and it was not till he dispatched a 

* It was called " L'insurrection du Faubourg St. Antoine." 



248 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

battalion with a couple of field-pieces to the spot that the plun- 
derers were expelled from the house and the riot was quelled. 
Nearly five hundred of the mob were killed, but when the Parlia- 
ment proceeded to set on foot a judicial inquiry into the cause 
of the tumult, Necker prevailed on the secretary of state to sup^ 
press the investigation, as he feared to exasperate D'Orleans fur- 
ther by giving publicity to his machinations, of which he did not 
yet suspect either the extent or the object.* 

A momentary tranquillity was, however, restored at Paris ; and 
all eyes were turned from the capital to Versailles, where the first 
few days of May were devoted to the receptions of the States- 
general by the king and queen, ceremonies which might have 
had a good effect, since the bitterest adversaries of the court were 
favorably impressed by the grace and affability of the queen ; but 
which many shrewd judges afterward believed to have had a con- 
trary influence, from the offense taken by the representatives of 
the Commons at some of the details of the ancient etiquette, which 
on so solemn an occasion was revived in all its stately strictness. 
The dignitaries of the Church wore their most sumptuous robes. 
The Nobles glittered with silk and gold lace ; jeweled clasps fast- 
ened plumes of feathers in their hats ; orders glittered on their 
breasts ; and many a precious stone sparkled in the hilts of their 
swords. The representatives of the Commons were allowed nei- 
ther feathers, nor embroidery, nor swords ; but were forced to 
content themselves with plain black cloaks, and an unadorned 
homeliness of attire, which seemed as if intended to exclude all 
idea of their being the equals of those other orders of which they 
had for a moment become the colleagues. And, in a similar spir- 
it it was arranged that, after the folding-doors of the saloon in 
which the sovereigns were awaiting them were thrown wide open 
to admit the representatives of the higher orders, the Commons 
were let in through a side door. And though in the eyes of per- 
sons habituated to the ceremonious niceties of court life these 
distinctions seemed matters of course, and, as such, unworthy of 
notice, it can hardly be wondered at if they were galling to men 
accustomed only to the simpler manners of a provincial town; 
and who, proud of their new position and deeply impressed with 
its importance, fancied they saw in them a settled intention to de- 

* The best account of this riot is to be found in Dr. Moore's " Views of the 
Causes and Progress of the French Revolution," i., p. 139. 



OPENING OF THE STATES- GENERAL. 249 

grade both them and tlieir constituents by thus stamping them 
with a badge of inferiority before all the spectators. 

The opening of the States - general was fixed for the 5th of 
May, and on the day before, which was Sunday, a solemn mass 
was performed at the principal church in Versailles, that of Notre 
Dame ; after which the congregation proceeded to another church, 
that of St. Louis, to hear a sermon from the Bishop of Nancy. 
It was a stately procession that moved from one church to the 
other, and it was afterward remembered as the very last in which 
the royal pair appeared before their subjects with the undimin- 
ished magnificence of ancient ceremony. First, after a splendid 
escort of troops, came the members of the States in their several 
orders ; then the king marched by himself ; the queen followed ; 
and behind her came the princes and princesses of the royal family 
of the blood, the officers of state and of the household, and com- 
panies of the Body-guard brought up the rear. The accla- 
mations of the spectators were loud as the deputies of the States, 
and especially as the representatives of the Commons, passed 
on ; loud, too, as the king moved forward, bearing himself with 
unusual dignity ; but, when the queen advanced, though still the 
main body of the people cheered with sincere respect, a gang of 
ruffians, among whom were several women,* shouted out " Long- 
live the Duke of Orleans!" in her ear, with so menacing an ac- 
cent that she nearly fainted with terror. By a strong mastery 
over herself she shook off the agitation, which was only perceived 
by her immediate attendants ; but the disloyal feeling thus shown 
toward her at the outset was a sad omen of the spirit in which one 
party at least was prepared to view the measures of the Government ; 
and, so far as she was concerned, of the degree in which her enemies 
had succeeded in poisoning the minds of the people against her, as 
the person whose resistance to their meditated encroachments on 
the royal authority was likely to prove the most formidable. 

It was a significant hint, too, of the projects already formed 
by the worthless prince whose adherents these ruffians proclaimed 
themselves. The Due d'Orleans conceived himself to have lately 
received a fresh provocation, and an additional motive for revenge. 
His eldest son, the Due de Chartres,f was now a boy of sixteen. 



* Madame de Campan specially remarks that the disloyal cry of " Vive le 
Due d'Orleans" came from "les femmes du peuple" (ch. xiii.). 
•j- Afterward Louis PhiUppe, King of the French. 



250 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

and lie had proposed to the king to give him Madame Royale in 
marriage ; an idea which the queen, who held his character in de- 
served abhorrence, had rejected with very decided marks of dis- 
pleasure. He was also stimulated by views of personal ambition. 
The history of England had been recently studied by many per- 
sons in France besides the king and queen ; and there were not 
wanting advisers to point out to the duke that the revolution 
which had taken place in England exactly a century before had 
owed its success to the dethronement of the reigning sovereign 
and the substitution of another member of the royal family in his 
place. As William of Orange was, after the king's own children, 
the next heir to James IL, so was the Due d'Orleans now the next 
heir, after the king's children and brothers, to Louis XVI. ; and for 
the next five months there can be no doubt that he and his partisans, 
Avho numbered in their body some of the most influential members 
of the States-general, kept constantly in view the hope of placing 
him on the throne from which they were to depose his cousin. 

The next day the States were formally opened by Louis in per- 
son. The place of meeting was a spacious hall which, two years 
before, had been used for the meeting of the Notables. It had 
been the scene of many a splendid spectacle in times past, but 
had never before witnessed so imposing or momentous a cere- 
mony. The town itself had not risen into notice till the memo- 
ry of the preceding States-general had almost passed away. And 
now, after all the deputies had ranged themselves to receive their 
sovereign, the representatives of the clergy on the right of the 
throne, the Nobles on the left, the Commons in denser masses at 
the bottom of the hall ;* as the king, accompanied by the queen, 
leading two of her childrenf by the hand, and attended by all the 
princes of the royal family and of the blood, by the dukes and 
peers of the kingdom, the ministers and great oflicers of state, 
entered and took his seat on the throne, the most unimpassioned 
spectator must have felt that he was beholding a scene at once 
magnificent and solemn ; and one, from long desuetude, as novel 
as if it had been wholly unprecedented, such as might well in- 
augurate a new policy or a new constitution. 

* " View of the Causes and Progress of the French Revolution," by Dr. 
Moore, i., p. 144. 

f The dauphin was too ill to be present. The children were Madame 
Royale and the Due de Normandie, who became dauphin the next month by 
the death of his elder brother. 



THE COMMONS ASSERT THEIR EQUALITY. 251 

Could those who beheld it as spectators, could those who bore 
a part in the solemnity, have looked into futurity ; could they 
have divined that no other hall would ever again see that virtuous 
and beneficent king surrounded with that pomp, or received with 
that reverential homage which was now paid to him as his un- 
questioned right ; nay, that the end, of which this day was the 
beginning, scarcely one single person of all those now present, 
whether men in the flower of their strength, women in the pride 
of their beauty, or even children in their infantine innocence and 
grace, would live to behold ; but that sovereigns and subjects 
were destined, almost without exception, to perish with circum- 
stances of unutterable, unimaginable horror and misery, as the di- 
rect consequence of this day's pageant ; we may well believe that 
the most sanguine of those who now greeted it with eager hope 
and exultation would rather have averted his eyes from the ill- 
omened spectacle, and would have preferred to bear the worst 
evils of which he was anticipating the abolition, to bringing on 
his country the calamities which were about to fall upon it. 

A large state arm-chair, a little lower than the throne, had been 
set beside it for the queen ; the princes and princesses were 
ranged on each side on a row of chairs without arms ; and, when 
all had taken their places, the king opened the session with a short 
speech, leaving the real business to be unfolded at greater length 
by his ministers. In order to feel assured of the proper empha- 
sis and expression, he had rehearsed his speech frequently to the 
queen ; and, as he now delivered it with unusual dignity and 
gracefulness, it was received with frequent acclamations, though 
some of those who were watching all that passed with the great- 
est anxiety fancied that one or two compliments to the queen 
which it contained met with a colder response ; while, at its close, 
the representatives of the Third Estate gave an indication of their 
feeling toward the other orders, and provoked a display on their 
part which promised little cordiality to their deliberations. The 
king, who had uncovered himself while speaking, on resuming his 
seat replaced his hat. The Nobles, according to the ancient eti- 
quette, replaced theirs ; and many of the Commons at once as- 
serted their equality with them by also covering themselves. 
Such an assumption was a breach of all established custom. The 
Nobles were indignant, and with angry shouts demanded the re- 
moval of the Commons' hats. They were met with louder clamor 
by the Commons, and in a moment the whole hall was in an up- 



252 LIFE OP MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

roar, which was only allayed by the presence of mind of Louis 
himself, who, as if oppressed by the heat, laid aside his own hat, 
when, as a matter of course, the Nobles followed his example. 
The deputies of the Commons did the same, and peace was re- 
stored. 

The king's speech was followed by another short one from the 
keeper of the seals, which received but little attention ; and by 
one of prodigious length from Necker, which was equally inju- 
dicious and unacceptable to his hearers, both in what it said and 
in what it omitted. He never mentioned the question of consti- 
tutional reform. He said nothing of what the Commons, at least, 
thought still more important — the number of chambers in which 
the members were to meet; and, though he dilated at the most 
profuse length on the condition of the finances, and on his own 
success in re-establishing public credit, they were by no means 
pleased to hear him assert that that success had removed any ab- 
solute necessity for their meeting at all, and that they had only 
been called together in fulfillment of the king's promise, that so 
the sovereign might establish a better harmony between the dif- 
ferent parts of the Constitution. 

Before any business could be proceeded with, it was necessary 
for the members to have the writs of their elections properly cer- 
tified and registered, for which they were to meet on the follow- 
ing day. We need not here detail the artifices and assumptions 
by which the members of the Third Estate put forward preten- 
sions which were designed to make them masters of the whole 
Assembly ; nor is it necessary to unfold at length the combina- 
tion of audacity and craft, aided by the culpable weakness of 
Necker, by which they ultimately carried the point they contend- 
ed for, providing that the three orders should deliberate and vote 
together as one united body in one chamber. Emboldened by 
their success, they even proceeded to a step which probably not 
one among them had originally contemplated ; and, as if one of 
their principal objects had been to disown the authority of the 
king by which they had been called together, they repudiated the 
title of States-general, and invented for themselves a new name, 
that of " The National Assembly," which, as it had never been 
heard of before, seemed to mark that they owed their existence 
to the nation, and not to the sovereign. 

But the discussions that took place before all these points were 
settled, presented, besides the importance of the conclusion which 



THE COUNT BE MIEABEAU. 253 

was adopted, anotlier feature of powerful interest, since it was in 
them that the members first heard the voice of the Count de Mi- 
rabeau, who, more than any other deputy, was supposed during 
the ensuing year to be able to sway the whole Assembly, and to 
hold the destinies of the nation in his hands. 

Necker's daughter, the celebrated Baroness de Stael, wife of the 
Swedish embassador, who was present at the opening of the States, 
which, as her father's daughter, she regarded with exulting confi- 
dence as the body of legislators who were to regenerate the na- 
tion, remarked, as the long procession passed before her eyes, that 
of the six hundred deputies of the Commons,* the Count de Mi- 
rabeau alone bore a name which was previously known ; and he 
was manifestly out of his place as a representative of the Com- 
mons. His history was a strange one. He was the eldest son of a 
Provencal noble, of Italian origin, great wealth, and a ferocious ec- 
centricity of character, which made him one of the worst possible 
instructors for a youth of brilliant talents, unbridled passions, and 
a disposition equally impetuous in its pursuit of good and of evil. 
Even before he arrived at manhood he had become notorious for 
every kind of profligacy ; while his father, in an almost equal de- 
gTce, provoked the censure of those who interested themselves in 
the career of a youth of undeniable ability, by punishments of 
such severity as wore the appearance of vengeance rather than of 
fatherly correction. In six or seven years he obtained no fewer 
than fifteen waiTants, or letters under seal, for the imprisonment 
of his son in different jails or fortresses, while the young man 
seemed to take a wanton pleasure in showing how completely all 
efforts for his reformation were thrown away. Though unusually 
ugly (he himself compared his face to that of a tiger who had had 
the small-pox), he was irresistible among women. While one of 
the youngest subalterns in the army, he made love, rarely with- 
out success, to the mistresses or wives of his superior oflScers, and 
fought duel after duel with those who took offense at his gallant- 
ries. From one castle in which he was imprisoned he was aided 
to escape by the wife of an ofiicer of the garrison, who accompa- 
nied his flight. From another he was delivered by the love of a 
lady of the highest rank, the Marchioness de Monnier, whom he 
had met at the governor's table. 

* "Aucun nom propre, excepte le sien, n'etait encore cel^bre dans les six 
cents deputes du Tiers." — Consideratioiis sur la Revohdion J^rangaise, pp. 186, 
187. 



254 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

When, after some years of misery, tlie marchioness terminated 
them by suicide, he seduced a nun of exquisite beauty to leave 
her convent for his sake ; and as France was no longer a safe res- 
idence for them, he fled to Frederick of Prussia, who, equally glad 
to welcome him as a Frenchman, a genius, and a profligate, re- 
ceived him for a while into high favor. But he was penniless ; 
and Frederick was never liberal of his money. Debt soon drove 
him from Prussia, and he retired to England, where he made ac- 
quaintance with Fox, Fitzpatrick, and other men of mark in the 
political circles of the day. He was at all times and amidst all 
his excesses both observant and studious ; and while witnessing in 
person the strife of parties in this country, he learned to appreci- 
ate the excellencies of our Constitution, both in its theory and in 
its practical working. But presently debt drove him from Lon- 
don as it had driven him from Berlin ; and, after taking refuge 
for a short time in Holland and Switzerland, he was hesitating 
whither next to betake himself, when, hearing of the elections for 
the States - general, he resolved to offer himself as a candidate ; 
and returned to Provence to seek the suffrages of the Nobles of 
his own county. 

Unluckily, his character was too well known in his native dis- 
trict ; and the Nobles, unwilling to countenance the ambition of 
one who had obtained so evil a notoriety, rejected him. Full of 
indignation, he turned to the Third Estate, offering himself as a 
representative of the Commons. In his speeches to the citizens 
of Aix and Marseilles — for he canvassed both towns — he inveigh- 
ed against Necker and the Government with an eloquence which 
electrified his audience, Avho had never before been addressed in 
the language of independence. He was returned for both towns, 
and hastened to Versailles, eager to avenge on the Nobles, the body 
which, as he felt, he had a right to have represented, the affront 
which had driven him, against his will, to seek the votes of a class 
with which he had scarcely a feeling in common ; for in the whole 
Assembly there was no man less of a democrat in his heart, or 
prouder of his ancestry and aristocratic privileges. 

He differed from most of his colleagues, inasmuch as he, from 
the first, had distinct views of the policy desirable for the nation, 
which he conceived to be the establishment of a limited constitu- 
tional monarchy, such as he had seen in England,* But no man 

* In the first weeks of the session he told the Count de la Marck, " On ne 



rmWS OF MIR ABE AU. 255 

in the whole Assembly was more inconsistent, as lie was ever chang- 
ing his views, or at least his conduct and language, at the dictates 
of interest or wounded pride ; sometimes, as it might seem, in the 
mere wantonness of genius, as if he wished to show that he could 
lead the Assembly with equal ease to take a course, or to retrace its 
steps — that it rested with him alone alike to do or to undo. The 
only object from which he never departed was that of making all 
parties feel and bow to his influence. And it is this very inconsist- 
ency which so especially connects his career for the rest of his life 
with the fortunes of the queen, since, while he misunderstood her 
character, and feared her power with the king and ministers as like- 
ly to be exerted in opposition to his own views, he was the most 
ferocious and most foul of her enemies : when he saw that she was 
willing to accept his aid, and when he therefore began to conceive a 
hope of making her useful to himself in the prosecution of his de- 
signs, no man was louder in her praise, nor, it must be admitted, 
more energetic or more judicious in the advice which he gave her. 
His language on the first occasion on which he made his voice 
heard in the Assembly was eminently characteristic of him, so 
manifestly was it directed to the attainment of his own object — 
that of making himself necessary to the court, and obtaining ei- 
ther oflBce or some pension which might enable him to live, since 
his own resources had long been exhausted by his extravagance. 
D'Espresmenil had strongly advocated the doctrine that the meet- 
ing of the three orders in separate chambers was a fundalmental 
principle of the monarchy ; and Mirabeau, in opposition to him, 
moved an address to the king, which represented the Third Estate 
as desirous to ally itself with the throne, so as to enable it to re- 
sist the pretensions of the clergy and the nobles ; and, as this 
speech of his produced no overture from the minister, in the mid- 
dle of June he made a direct offer to Necker to support the Gov- 
ernment, if Necker had any plan at all which was in the least 
reasonable ;* and he gave proof of his sincerity by vigorously op- 

sortira plus de 1^ sans un gouvernement plus ou moins semblable h celui d'An- 
gleterre." — Correspondance entre le Comte de Mirabeau et le Comte de la Marck, 

i-.p-ev. 

* He employed M. Malouet, a very influential member of the Assembly, as 
his agent to open his views to Necker, saying to him, " Je m'adresse done 4 
votre probity. Vous etes lie avec MM. Necker et de Montmorin, vous devez 
savoir ce qu'ils veulent, et s'ils ont un plan ; si ce plan est raisonnable je le 
defendrai." — Correspondance de Mirabeau et La Marek, i., p. 219. 



256 LIFE OF 3IABIE ANTOINETTE. 

posing some proposals of tlie extreme reformers. But, with, in- 
credible folly, Necker rejected his support, treating his arguments 
to his face as insignificant, and affirming that their views were ir- 
reconcilable, since Mirabeau wished to govern by policy, while he 
himself preferred morality. 

He at once resolved to revenge himself on the minister who 
had thus slighted him,* and he was not long in finding an oppor- 
tunity. On the 23d of June, after the States had assumed their 
new form, and Louis at a royal sitting had announced the reforms 
he had resolved to grant, and which were so complete that the 
most extreme reform.ers admitted that they could have wished for 
nothing more, except that they should themselves have taken 
them, and that the king should not have given them, Mirabeau 
took the lead in throwing down a defiance to his sovereign ; re- 
fusing to consent to the adjournment of the Assembly, as was 
natural on the withdrawal of the king, and declaring that they, 
the members of the Commons, would not quit the hall unless 
they were expelled by bayonets. 

But, violently as Versailles and Paris were agitated throughout 
May and June, Marie Antoinette took no part in the discussion 
which these questions excited. She had a still graver trouble at 
home. Her eldest son, the dauphin, whose birth had been greet- 
ed so enthusiastically by all classes, had, as we have seen, long 
been sickly. Since the beginning of the year his health had been 
growing worse, and on the 4th of June he died ; and, though his 
bereaved mother bore up bravely under his loss, she felt it deep- 
ly, and for a time was almost incapacitated from turning her at- 
tention to any other subject. 

* There is some uncertainty about Mirabeau's motives and connections at 
this time. M. de Bacourt, the very diHgent and judicious editor of that cor- 
respondence witli De la Marck which has been already quoted, denies that 
Mirabeau ever received money from the Due d'Orleans, or that he had any 
connection witli his pai'ty or his views. The evidence on the other side seems 
much stronger, and some of the statements of the Comte de la Marck con- 
tained in that volume go to exculpate Mirabeau from all complicity in the at- 
tack on Versailles on the 9th of October, which seems estabUshed by abun- 
dant testimony. 



MARSHAL DE BROGLIE. 257 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

Troops are brought up from the Frontier. — The Assembly petitions the King 
to withdraw them. — He refuses. — He dismisses Necker. — The Baron de 
Breteuil is appointed Prime Minister. — Terrible Riots in Paris. — The Tri- 
color Flag is adopted. — Storming of the Bastile and Murder of the Gov- 
ernor. — The Count d'Artois and other Princes fly from the Kingdom. — The 
King recalls Necker. — Withdraws the Soldiers and visits Paris. — Forma- 
tion of the National Guard. — Insolence of La Fayette and Bailly. — Madame 
de Tourzel becomes Governess of the Royal Children. — Letters of Marie 
Antoinette on their Character, and on her own Views of Education. 

But even so solemn a grief as that for a dead child she was 
not suffered to indulge long. Even for such a purpose royalty is 
not always allowed the respite which would be conceded to those 
in a more moderate station ; and affairs in Paris began to assume 
so menacing a character that she was forced to rouse herself to 
support her husband. Demagogues in Paris excited the lower 
classes of the citizens to formidable tumults. The troops were 
tampered with ; they mutinied ; and when the Assembly so vio- 
lated its duty as to take the mutineers under its protection, and 
to intercede with the king for their pardon, Louis, or, as we should 
probably say, Necker, did not venture to refuse, though it was 
plain that the condign punishment of such an offense was indis- 
pensable to the maintenance of discipline for the future. And 
Louis felt the humiliation so deeply that some of those about him, 
the Count d'Artois taking the lead in that party, were able to in- 
duce him to bring up from the frontier some German and Swiss 
regiments, which, as not having been exposed to the contagion of 
the capital, were free from the prevailing taint of disloyalty. But 
Louis was incapable of carrying out any plan resolutely. He se- 
lected the commander with judgment, placing the troops under 
the orders of a veteran of the Seven Years' War, the old Marshal 
de Broglie, who, though more than seventy years of age, gladly 
brought once more his tried skill and valor to the service of his 
sovereign. But the king, even while intrusting him with this 
command, disarmed him at the same moment by a strict order to 
avoid all bloodshed and violence ; though nothing could be more 

17 



258 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

obvious than that such outbreaks as the marshal was likely to be 
called on to suppress could not be quelled by gentle means. 

The Orleanists and Mirabeau probably knew nothing of this 
humane or rather pusillanimous order, though most of the se- 
crets of the court were betrayed to them ; but Mirabeau saw in 
the arrival of the soldiers a fresh opportunity of making the king 
feel the folly of the minister in rejecting his advances ; and in a 
speech of unusual power he thundered against those who had 
advised the bringing-up of troops, as he declared, to overawe the 
Assembly ; though, in fact, nothing but their presence and active 
exertions could prevent the Assembly from being overawed by 
the mob. But, undoubtedly, at this time his own first object was 
to use the populace of Paris to terrify the members into obedi- 
ence to himself. In one of his ends he succeeded ; he drove 
Necker from office. He carried the address which he proposed, 
to entreat the king to withdraw the troops ; but Louis had for 
the moment resolved on adopting bolder counsels than those of 
Necker. He declined to comply with the petition, declaring that 
it was his duty to keep in Paris a force sufficient to preserve the 
public tranquillity, though, if the Assembly were disquieted by 
their neighborhood, he expressed his unwillingness to remove 
their session to some more distant town. And at the same time 
he dismissed Necker from office, banishing him from France, but 
ordering him to keep his departure secret. 

The ,queen had evidently had great influence in bringing him 
to this decision ; but how cordially she approved of all the con- 
cessions which the king had already made, and how clearly she 
saw that more still remained to be done before the necessary ref- 
ormation could be pronounced complete, the letter which on the 
evening of Necker's dismissal she wrote to Madame de Polignac 
convincingly proves. She had high ideas of the authority which 
a king was legitimately entitled to exercise ; and to what she re- 
garded as undue restrictions on it, injurious to his dignity, she 
would never consent. She probably regarded them as abstract 
questions which had but little bearing on the substantial welfare 
of the people in general ; but of all measures to increase the hap- 
piness of all classes, even of the very lowest, she was throughout 
the warmest advocate. 

"July 11th, 1'789. 

" I can not sleep, my dear heart, without letting you know that 
M. Necker is gone. MM. de Breteuil and de la Vauguyon will 



MADAME ROLAND UROINO SECRET ASSASSINATION. 259 

be summoned to the council to morrow. God grant that we may 
at last be able to do all the good with which we are wholly oc- 
cupied. The moment will be terrible ; but I have courage, and, 
provided that the honest folks support us without exposing them- 
selves needlessly, I think that I have vigor enough in myself to 
impart some to others. But it is more than ever necessary to 
bear in mind that all classes of men, so long as they are honest, 
are equally our subjects, and to know how to distinguish those 
who are right-thinking in every district and in every rank. My 
God ! if people could only believe that these are my real thoughts, 
perhaps they would love me a little. But I must not think of 
myself. The glory of the king, that of his son, and the happi- 
ness of this ungrateful nation, are all that I can, all that I ought 
to, wish for ; for as for your friendship, my dear heart, I reckon 

on that always " 

Such language and sentiments were worthy of a sovereign. 
That the feelings here expressed were genuine and sincere, the 
whole life of the Vriter is a standing proof ; and yet already 
fierce, wicked spirits, even of women (for never was it more clear- 
ly seen than in France at this time how far, when women .are 
cruel, they exceed the worst of men in ferocity), were thirsting 
for her blood. Already a woman in education and ability far 
above the lowest class, one whose energy afterward raised her to 
be, if not the avowed head, at least the moving spirit, of a nu- 
merous party (Madame Roland), was urging the public prosecution, 
or, if the nation were not ripe for such a formal outrage, the se- 
cret assassination, of both king and queen.* But, however benev- 
olent and patriotic were the queen's intentions, it became instant- 
ly evident that those who had counseled the dismissal of Necker 
had given their advice in entire ignorance of the hold which he 
had established on the affections of the Parisians ; while the new 
prime minister, the Baron de Breteuil, whose previous office had 
connected him with the police, was, on that account, very unpop- 
ular with a class which is very numerous in all large cities. The 
populace of Paris broke out at once in riots which amounted to 
insurrection. Thousands of citizens, not all of the lowest class, 
decorated with green cockades, the color of Necker's livery, and 

* A letter of Madame Roland dated the 26th of this very month, July, 1789, 
declares that the people " are undone if the National Assembly does not pro- 
ceed seriously and regularly to the trial of the illustrious heads [the king and 
queen], or if some generous Decius does not risk his life to take theirs." 



260 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

armed with every variety of weapon, paraded tlie streets, bearing 
aloft busts of Necker and the Due d'Orleans, without stopping, 
in their naadness, to consider how incongruous a combination 
they were presenting. The most ridiculous stories were circu- 
lated about the queen : it was affirmed that she had caused the 
Hall of the Assembly to be undermined, that she might blow it 
up with gunpowder ;* and, by way of averting or avenging so 
atrocious an act, the mob began to set fire to houses in different 
quarters of the city. Growing bolder at the sight of their own 
violence, they broke open the prisons, and -thus obtained a re- 
enforcement of hundreds of desperadoes, ripe for any wickedness. 
The troops were paralyzed by Louis's imbecile order to avoid 
bloodshed, and in the same proportion the rioters were encour- 
aged by their inaction and evident helplessness. They attacked 
the great armory, and equipped themselves with its contents, ap- 
plying to the basest uses time-honored weapons, monuments of 
ancient valor and patriotism. The spear with which Dunois had 
cleared his country of the British invaders ; the sword with which 
the first Bourbon king had routed Egmont's cavalry at Ivry, were 
torn down from the walls to arm the vilest of mankind for rapine 
and slaughter. They stormed the Hotel de Ville, and got pos- 
session of the municipal chest, containing three millions of francs ; 
and now, more and more intoxicated with their triumph, and 
with the evidence which all these exploits afforded that the whole 
city was at their mercy, they proceeded to give their riot a regu- 
lar organization, by establishing a committee to sit in the Guild- 
hall and direct their future proceedings. Lawless and ferocious 
as was the main body of the rioters, there were shrewd heads to 
guide their fury ; and the very first order issued by this commit- 
tee was marked by such acute foresight, and such a skillful adap- 
tation to the requirements of the moment and the humor of the 

* This story reached even distant provinces. On the 24th of July Arthur 
Young, being at Colmar, was assured at the table-d''h6te " that the queen had 
a plot, nearly on the point of execution, to blow up the National Assembly by 
a mine, and to march the army instantly to massacre all Paris." A French of- 
ficer presumed but to doubt of the truth of it, and was immediately overpow- 
ered with numbers of tongues. A deputy had written it ; they had seen the 
letter. And at Dijon, a week later, he tells us that " the current report at 
present, to which all possible credit is given, is that the queen has been con- 
victed of a plot to poison the king and monsieur, and give the regency to the 
Count d'Artois, to set fire to Paris, and blow up the Palais Royal by a mine." 
— Arthur Young's Travels^ etc., in France, pp. 143, 151. 



ATTACK ON THE BASTILE. 261 

people, that it remains in force to this day. It was hardly strange 
that men in open insurrection against the king's authority should 
turn their wrath against one of its conspicuous emblems, conse- 
crated though it was by usage of immemorial antiquity and by 
many a heroic achievement — the snow-white banner bearing the 
golden lilies. But that glorious ensign could not be laid aside 
till another was substituted for it ; and the colors of the city, red 
and blue, and white, the color of the army, were now blended to- 
gether to form the tricolor flag which has since won for itself a 
wider renown than 6ven the deeds of Bayard or Turenne had shed 
upon the lilies, and with which, under every form of government, 
the nation has permanently identified itself. 

They demanded more men, and a committee with three mill- 
ions of francs could easily command recruits. They stormed the 
Hotel des Invalides, where thousands of muskets were kept fit for 
instant use; one division of regular troops, whose commander, 
the Baron de Besenval, was a resolute man, determined to do 
his duty, mutinying against .his orders, and refusing to fire on 
the mob. They took possession of the city gates, and, thinking 
themselves now strong enough for any exploit, on the third day of 
the insurrection, the 14th of July, they marched in overpowering 
force to attack the Bastile. 

In former times the Bastile had been the great fortress of the 
city ; and, as such, it had been fortified with all the resources of 
the engineer's art. Massive well-armed towers rose at numerous 
points above walls of great height and solidity. A deep fosse 
surrounded it, and, when well supplied and garrisoned, it had 
been regarded with pride by the citizens, as a bulwark capable of 
defying the utmost efforts of a foreign enemy, and not the less to 
be admired because they never expected it to be exposed to such 
a test ; but as a warlike fortress it had long been disused. In re- 
cent times it had only been known as the State-prison, identified 
more than any other with the worst acts of despotism and barbar- 
ity. As such it was now as much detested as it had formerly 
been respected; and it had nothing but the outward appearance 
of strength to resist an attack. Evidently the military authorities 
had never anticipated the possibility that the mob would rise to 
such a height of audacity. But the rioters were now encouraged 
by two days of unbroken success, and those who spurred them on 
were well-informed as well as fearless. They knew that the cas- 
tle was in such a state that its apparent strength was its real weak- 



262 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE: 

ness ; that its entire garrison consisted of little more than a hun- 
dred soldiers, most of whom were superannuated veterans, a force 
inadequate to man one-tenth of the defenses; and that the gov- 
ernor, De Launay, though personally brave, was a man devoid of 
presence of mind, and nervous under responsibility. 

Led by a brewer, named Santerre, who for the next three years 
bore a conspicuous part in all the worst deeds of ferocity and hor- 
ror, they assailed the gates in vast numbers. While the attention 
of the scanty garrison was fully occupied by this assault, another 
party scaled the walls at a point where there was not even a sen- 
tinel to give the alai'm, and let down one draw-bridge across the 
fosse, while another was loosened, as is believed, by traitors in 
the garrison itself. Swarming across the passage thus opened to 
them, thousands of the assailants rushed in; murdered the gov- 
ernor, officers, and almost every one of the garrison ; and with a 
savage ferocity, as yet unexampled, though but a faint omen of 
their future crimes, they cut off the head and hands of De Lau- 
nay and several of their chief victims, and, sticking them on pikes, 
bore them as trophies of their victory through the streets of the 
city. 

The news of what had been done came swiftly to Versailles, 
where it excited feelings in the Assembly which, had the king or 
his advisers been capable of availing themselves of it with skill 
and firmness, might have led to a salutary change in the policy 
of that body ; for the greater part of the deputies were thorough- 
ly alarmed at the violence of Santerre and his companions, and 
would in all probability have supported the king in taking strong 
measures for the restoration of order. But Louis could not be 
roused, even by the murder of his own faithful servant, to employ 
force to save those who might be similarly menaced. The only 
expedient which occurred to his mind was to concede all that the 
rioters required ; and at midday on the 1 5th he repaired to the 
Assembly, and announced that he had ordered the removal of the 
troops from Paris and from Versailles ; declaring that he trusted 
himself to the Assembly, and wished to identify himself with the 
nation. The Assembly could hardly have avoided feeling that it 
was a strange time to select for withdrawing the troops, when an 
armed mob was in possession of the capital ; but, as they had 
formerly requested that measure, they thought themselves bound 
now to applaud it, and, being for the moment touched by the 
compliment paid to themselves, when he quit the Hall they unan- 



■ TERROR OF THE ASSEMBLY. 263 

imously rose and followed him, escorting him back to the pal- 
ace with vehement cheers. A vast crowd filled the outer courts, 
who caught the contagion, and shouted out a demand for a sight 
of the whole royal family ; and presently, when the queen brought 
out on the balcony her only remaining boy, whom the death of 
his brother had raised to the rank of dauphin, and saluted them 
with a graceful bow, the whole mass burst out in one vociferous 
acclamation. 

Yet even in that moment of congratulation there were base and 
malignant spirits in the crowd, full of bitterness against the royal 
family, and especially against the queen, whom they had e^^ident- 
ly been taught to regard as the chief obstacle to the reforms 
which they desired. Her faithful waiting - woman, Madame de 
Campan, had gone down into the court-yard and mingled with 
the crowd, to be the better able to judge of their real feelings. 
She could see that many were disguised ; and one woman, whose 
veil of black lace, with which she concealed her features, showed 
that she did not belong to the lowest class, seized her violently 
by the arm, calling her by her name, and bid her " go and tell her 
queen not to interfere any more in the Government, but to leave 
her husband and the good States-general to work out the happi- 
ness of the people." Others she heard uttering threats of venge- 
ance against Madame de Polignac. And one, while pouring forth 
" a thousand invectives " against both king and queen, declared 
that it should soon be impossible to find even a fragment of the 
throne on which they were now seated. 

Marie Antoinette was greatly alarmed, not for herself, but for 
her husband ; and, now that he had determined on withdrawing 
the soldiers from the capital, she earnestly entreated him to ac- 
company them, taking the not unreasonable view that the violence 
of the Parisian mob would be to some extent quelled, and the 
well-intentioned portion of the Assembly would have greater 
boldness to support their opinions, if the king were thus placed 
out of the reach of danger from any fresh outbreak ; and it was 
generally understood that an attack on Versailles itself was antici- 
pated.* She felt so certain of the wisdom of such a course, and so 
sanguine of prevailing, that she packed up her diamonds, burned 
many of her papers, and drew up a set of orders for the arrange- 

* "Car des ce moment on mena9ait Versailles d'une incursion de gens 
armes de Paris." — Madame de Campan, ch. xiv. 



264 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

ment of the details of the journey. But on the morning of the 
16th she was compelled to inform Madame Campan that the plan 
was given up. Large portions of the Parisian mob, and among 
them one deputation of the fish-women, who in this, as well as od 
more festive occasions, claimed equally to take the lead, had come 
out to demand that the king should visit Paris ; and the Min- 
isterial Council thought it safer for him to comply with that pe- 
tition than to throw himself into the arms of the soldiers, a step 
which might not improbably lead to a civil war. 

To the queen this seemed the most dangerous course of all. 
She knew that both at Versailles and at Paris the agents of the 
Duke of Orleans had been scattering money with a lavish hand ; 
and she scarcely doubted that either on his road, or in the city, 
her husband would be assassinated, or at the least detained by the 
mob as a prisoner and a hostage. 

Had she not feared to increase his danger, she would have ac- 
companied him ; but at such a crisis it required more courage and 
fortitude to separate herself from him ; and the most courageous 
part was ever that which was most natural to her. But, though 
she took no precautions for herself, she was as thoughtful as ever 
for her friends ; and, knowing how obnoxious the Duchess de Po- 
lignac was to the multitude, she insisted on her departing with her 
family. The duchess fled, not unwillingly ; and at the same time 
others also quit Versailles who had not the same plea of delica- 
cy of sex to excuse their terrors, and who were bound by every 
principle of duty to remain by the king's side the more steadily 
the greater might be the danger. The Prince de Conde, who cer- 
tainly at one time had been a brave man, and had won an hon- 
orable name, worthy of his intrepid ancestor, in the Seven Years' 
War ; his brother, the Prince de Conti ; the Count d'Artois, who, 
having always been the advocate of the most violent measures, 
was doubly bound to stand forward in defense of his king and 
brother, all fled, setting the first example of that base emigration 
which eventually left the king defenseless in the midst of his en- 
emies. The Baron de Breteuil and some of the ministers made 
similar provision for their own safety ; though it may be said, as 
some extenuation of their ignoble flight, that they had no longer 
any official duties to detain them, since the king had already dis- 
missed them, and on the evening of the 16th had written to 
Necker to beg him to return without delay and resume his of- 
fice, claiming his instant obedience as a proof of the attachment 



THE KINO VISITS PARIS 265 

and fidelity which he had promised when departing five days 
before. . 

On the morning of the lYth, Louis set out for Paris in a single 
carriage, escorted by a very slender guard and accompanied by a 
party of the deputies. He was fully alive to the danger he was 
incurring. He knew that threats had been openly uttered that he 
should not reach Paris alive ;* and he had prepared for his jour- 
ney as for death, burning his papers, taking the sacrament, and 
making arrangements for a regency. Marie Antoinette was al- 
most hopeless of his safety. She sat with her children in her 
private room, shedding no tears, lest the knowledge of her grief 
should increase the alarm of her attendants ; but her carriages 
were kept harnessed, and she had prepared and learned by heart 
a shprt speech, with which, if the worst news which she appre- 
hended should arrive, she intended to repair to the Assembly, and 
claim its protection for the wife and children of their sovereign.f 
But often, as she rehearsed it, her voice, in spite of all her eiforts, 
was broken by sobs, and her reiterated exclamation, " They will 
never let him return !" but too truly expressed the deep forebod- 
ings of her heart. 

They were not yet fated to be realized ; the Insurrection Com- 
mittee had already organized a force which they had entitled the 
National Guard, and of which they had conferred the command on 
the Marquis de La Fayette. And at the gates of the city the 
king was met by him and the mayor, a man named Bailly, who 
had achieved a considerable reputation as a mathematician and 
an astronomer, but who was thoroughly imbued with the level, 
ing and irreligious doctrines of the school of the Encyclopedists. 
No men in Paris were less likely to treat their sovereign with due 
respect. 

Since his return from America, La Fayette had been living in re- 
tirement on his estate, till at the recent election he had been re- 
turned to the States-general as one of the representatives of the 
nobles for his native province of Auvergne. He had taken no 
part in the debates, being entirely destitute of political abilities ; J 

* Lacretelle, vol. vii., p. 106. 

f She meant to say, " Messieurs, je viens remettre entre vos mains I'epouse 
et la famille de votre souverain. Ne souffrez pas que I'on desunisse sur la 
terre ce qui a ete uni dans le ciel." — Madame de Campan, ch. xiv. 

X Napoleon seems to have formed this opinion of his political views : " Se- 
lon M. Gourgaud, Buonaparte, causant h Ste. Helene le traitait avec plus de 



266 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

and he had apparently no very distinct political views, but waver- 
ed between a desire for a republic, such as that of which. he had 
witnessed the establishment in America, and a feeling in favor of 
a limited monarchy such as he understood to exist in Great Brit- 
ain, though he had no accurate comprehension of its most essen- 
tial principles. But his ruling passion was a desire for populari- 
ty ; and as he had always been vain of his unbending ill-manners 
as a proof of his liberal sentiments,* and as his vanity made him 
regard kings and queens with a general dislike, as being of a rank 
superior to his own, he looked on the present occurrence as a fa- 
vorable opportunity for gaining the good -will of the mob, by 
showing marked disrespect to Louis. He would not even pay 
him the ordinary compliment of appearing in uniform, but head- 
ed his new troops in plain clothes; and even those were not .such 
as belonged to his rank, but were the ordinary dress of a plain 
citizen ; while Bailly's address, as Louis entered the gates, was 
marked with the most studied and gratuitous insolence. " Sire," 
said he, " I present to your majesty the keys of your good city 
of Paris. They are the same which were presented to Henri IV. 
He had conquered his people : to-day the people have conquered 
their king." 

Louis proceeded onward to the Hotel de Ville, in a strange pro- 
cession, headed by a numerous band of fish-women, always prom- 
inent, and recruited at every step by a crowd of rough peasant- 
looking men, armed with bludgeons, scythes, and every variety of 
rustic weapons, evidently on the watch for some opportunity to 
create a tumult, and seeking to provoke one by raising from time 
to time vociferous shouts of " Vive la nation !" and uttering fero- 
cious threats against any one who might chance to exclaim, " Vive 
le roi !" But they were disconcerted by the perfect calmness of 
the king, on whom danger to himself seemed the only thing in- 
capable of making an impression. On Bailly's insolent speech he 
had made no comment, remarking, in a whisper to his principal 
attendant, that he had better appear not to have heard it. And 

mempris [que Madame de Stael]. ' La Fayette etait encore un autre niais. 

II etait nullement taille pour le role qu'il avait a jouer C'etait un homme 

sans talents, ni civils, ni militaires ; esprit borne, caractere dissimule, domine 
par des ide'es vagues de liberte mal digerees chez lui; mal con9ues.'" — Bio- 
graphie UniverseUe. 

* In his Memoirs he boasts of the " gaucherie de ses manieres qui ne se 
plierent jamais aux graces de la Cour," p. 7. 



MADAME DE TOURZEL. 267 

now at the H6tel de Ville liis demeanor was as unruffled as if ev- 
ery thing that had happened had been in perfect accordance with 
his wishes. He made a short speech, in which he confirmed all 
the concessions and promises which he had previously made. He 
even placed in his hat a tricolor cockade, which the mayor had 
the effrontery to present to him, though it was the emblem of the 
revolt of his subjects and of the defeat of his troops. And at last 
such an effect had his fearless dignity on even the fiercest of his 
enemies, that when he afterward came out on the balcony to show 
himself to the crowd beneath, the whole mass raised the shout of 
" Vive le roi !" with as much enthusiasm as had ever greeted the 
most feared or the most beloved of his predecessors. 

His return to the barrier resembled a triumphal procession. 
Yet, happy as it seemed that outrage had thus been averted and 
unanimity restored, the result of the day can not, perhaps, be 
deemed entirely fortunate, since it probably contributed to fix 
more deeply in the king's mind the belief that concession to clam- 
or was the course most likely to be successful. Nor did the 
queen, though for the moment her despondency was changed to 
thankful exultation, at all conceal from herself that the perils 
which had been escaped were certain to recur ; and that vigilance 
and firmness would surely again be called for to repel them — 
qualities which she could find in herself, but which she might well 
doubt her ability to impart to others.* 

Her own attention was for a moment occupied by the neces- 
sary "work of selecting a new governess for her children in the 
place of Madame de Polignac ; and after some deliberation her 
choice fell on the Marchioness de Tourzel, a lady of the most spot- 
less character, who seems to have been in every respect well fitted 
for so important an office. As Marie Antoinette had scarcely any 
previous acquaintance with her, it was by her character alone that 
she had been recommended to her ; as was gracefully expressed 
in the brief speech with which Marie Antoinette delivered her lit- 
tle charges into her hands. " Madame," said she, " I formerly in- 
trusted my children to friendship ; to-day I intrust them to vir- 
tue ;"f and, a day or two afterward, to make easier the task which 
the marchioness had not undertaken without some unwillingness, 



* See her letter to Mercy, without date, but, apparently written a day or two 
after the king's journey to Paris, Feuillet de Conches, i., p. 238. 

f " Souvenirs de Quarante Ans " (by Madame de Tourzel's daughter), p. 30. 



268 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

she addressed her a letter in whicli she describes the character of 
her son, and her own principles and method of education, with an 
impartiality and soundness of judgment which could not have 
been surpassed by one who had devoted her whole attention to 
the subject : 

"July 25th, 1189. 

*' My son is four years and four months old, all but two days. 
I say nothing of his size nor of his general appearance ; it is only 
necessary to see him. His health has always been good, but even 

in his cradle we perceived that his nerves were very delicate 

This delicacy of his nerves is such that any noise to which he is 
not accustomed frightens him. For instance, he is afraid of dogs 
because he once heard one bark close to him; and I have never 
obliged him to see one, because I believe that, as his reason grows 
stronger, his fears will pass away. Like all children who are 
strong and healthy, he is very giddy, very volatile, and violent in 
his passions; but he is a good child, tender, and even caressing, 
when his giddiness does not run away with him. He has a great 
sense of what is due to himself, which, if he be well managed, 
one may some day turn to his good. Till he is entirely at his 
ease with any one, he can restrain himself, and even stifle his im- 
patience and his inclination to anger, in order to appear gentle and 
amiable. He is admirably faithful when once he has promised 
any thing, but he is very indiscreet ; he is thoughtless in repeat- 
ing any thing that he has heard ; and often, without in the least 
intending to tell stories, he adds circumstances which his own im- 
agination has put into his head. This is his greatest fault, 
and it is one for which he must be corrected. However, taken 
altogether, I say again, he is a good child ; and by treating him 
with allowance, and at the same time with firmness, which must 
be kept clear of severity, we shall always be able to do all that we 
can wish with him. But severity would revolt him, for he has a 
great deal of resolution for his age. To give you an instance : 
from his very earliest childhood the word pardon has always of- 
fended him. He will say and do all that you can wish when he 
is wrong, but as for the word pardon., he never pronounces it 
without tears and infinite difficulty. 

" I have always accustomed my children to have great confi- 
dence in me, and, when they have done wrong, to tell me them- 
selves ; and then, when I scold them, this enables me to appear 
pained and afflicted at what they have done rather than angry. 



HER SYSTEM OF' EDUCATION. 269 

I have accustomed them all to regard ' yes ' or ' no,' once uttered 
by me, as irrevocable ; but I always give them reasons for my de- 
cision, suitable to their ages, to prevent their thinking that my 
decision comes from ill-humor. My son can not read, and he is 
very slow at learning ; but he is too giddy to apply. 'He has no 
pride in his heart, and I am very anxious that he should continue 
to feel so. Our children always learn soon enough what they 
are. He is very fond of his sister, and has a good heart. When- 
ever any thing gives him pleasure, whether it be the going any- 
where, or that any one gives him any thing, his first movement al- 
ways is to ask that his sister may have the same. He is light- 
hearted by nature. It is necessary for his health that he should 
be a great deal in the open air ; and I think it is better to let him 
play and work in the garden on the terrace, than to take him long- 
er walks. The exercise which children take in running about and 
playing in the open air is much more healthy than forcing them 
to "walk, which often makes their backs ache."* 

Some of these last recommendations may seem to show that 
the governess was, to some extent, regarded as a nurse as well as 
a teacher; and when we find Marie Antoinette complaining of 
want of discretion in a child of four years old, it may perhaps be 
thought that she is expecting rather more of such tender years 
than is often found in them ; that she is inclined to be overex- 
acting rather than overindulgent ; an error the more venial, since 
it is probable that the educators of princes are more likely to go 
astray in the opposite direction. But it is impossible to avoid 
being struck with the candor with which she judges her boy's 
character, and with the judiciousness of her system of education ; 
and equally impossible to resist the conviction that a boy of good 
disposition, trained by such a mother, had every chance of becom- 
ing a blessing to his subjects, if fate had only allowed him to suc- 
ceed to the throne which she had still a right to look forward to 
for him as his assured inheritance. 

* Feuillet de Conches, i., p. 240. 



270 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

Necker resumes OflBce. — Outrages in the Provinces. — Pusillanimity of the 
Body of the Nation. — Parties in the Assembly. — Views of the Constitu- 
tionalists or "Plain." — Barnave makes Overtures to the Court. — The 
Queen rejects them. — The Assembly abolishes all Privileges, August 
4th. — Debates on the Veto. — An Attack on Versailles is threatened. — 
Great Scarcity in Paris. — The King sends his Plate to be melted down. — 
The Regiment of Flanders is brought up to Versailles. — A Military Ban- 
quet is held in the Opera-house. — October 5th, a Mob from Paris marches 
on Versailles. — Blunders of La Fayette. — Ferocity of the Mob on the 5th. 
— Attack on the Palace on the 6th. — Danger and Heroism of the Queen. — 
The Royal Family remove to Paris. — Their Reception at the Barrier and 
at the Hotel de Ville. — Shabbiness of the Tuileries. — The King fixes his 
Residence there. 

Necker had obeyed the king's summons the moment that he 
received it, and before the end of the month he returned to Ver- 
sailles and resumed his ofRce. But, even before the king's dis- 
patch reached him, Paris had witnessed terrible proofs that the 
tranquillity which the king's visit to the capital was supposed to 
have re-established was but temporary. The populace had broken 
out into fresh tumults, murdering some of Breteuil's colleagues 
with circumstances of frightful barbarity ; while intelligence of 
similar disturbances in the provinces was constantly arriving. In 
Normandy, in Alsace, and in Provence, in the towns, and in the 
rural districts, the towns-people and the peasants rose against their 
wealthier neighbors or their landlords, burning their houses, and 
commonly murdering the owners with the most revolting barbar- 
ity. Some were torn into pieces ; some were roasted alive ; some 
had actually portions of their flesh cut off and eaten by their 
murderers in their own sight, before the blow was given which 
terminated their agonies. Their sex did not save ladies from be- 
ing victims of the same cruelties, nor did it prevent women from 
being actors in them. 

Yet the horror of these scenes was scarcely stranger than the 
pusillanimity of those who endured them unresistingly ; for there 
Avere not wanting instances of magistrates honest enough to de- 
test, and courageous enough to chastise, such outrages ; and wher- 



PARTIES IN THE ASSEMBLY. 271 

ever the effort was made it succeeded so completely as to fix no 
slight criminality on those who submitted to them. In Dauphiny, 
the States of the province raised a small guard, which quelled the 
first attempts to cause riots there, and hanged the ringleaders. In 
Macon, a similar force, though not three hundred strong, encoun- 
tered a band of brigands, six thousand in number, and brought 
back two hundred prisoners, the chiefs of whom were instantly 
executed, and by their prompt punishment tranquillity was re- 
stored. Similar firmness would have saved other districts, which 
now allowed themselves to be the victims of ravage and murder ; 
as afterward it would have preserved the whole country, even 
when the madness and wickedness of subsequent years were at 
their height ; for in no part of the kingdom did those who per- 
petrated or sympathized with the crimes which have made the 
Revolution a by-word, approach the number of those who loathed 
them, but who had not the courage or foresight to withstand 
them. It seemed as if a long course of misgovernment, and the 
example of the profligacy and impiety set by the higher classes 
for many generations, had demoralized the entire people, some 
in their excesses discarding the ordinary instincts of human be- 
ings ; while the bulk of the nation had lost even that courage 
which had once been among its most shining qualities, and had 
no longer the manliness to resist outrages which they abhorred, 
even when their own safety was staked upon their repression. 

And similar weakness was exhibited in the Assembly itself; 
for, unquestionably, the party which at last prevailed was not that 
which was originally the strongest. Like most assemblies of the 
kind, it was divided into three parties — the extreme Royalists, or 
"the Right;" the extreme Reformers (who were subdivided into 
several sections), or " the Left ;" and between them the moderate 
Constitutionalists, or " the Plain," as they were called, from occu- 
pying seats in the middle of the hall, between the raised benches 
on either side. And to the last party belonged all the men most 
distinguished either for statesman-like perceptions or for eloquence, 
Mirabeau himself agreeing with them in all their leading princi- 
ples, though he never formally enrolled himself in the ranks of 
any party. 

The majority of the Constitutionalists were as loyal to the king's 
person and dignity as the extreme Royalists ; their most eloquent 
speaker, a young lawyer named Barnave, at the first opening of 
the States had even sought to open a direct communication with 



2*72 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

the court, begging Madame de Lamballe* to assure the queen of 
the wish of himself and all his friends to maintain the king in 
the full enjoyment and exercise of what he called a Constitution- 
al authority, borrowing the idea and expression from the English 
Government. But though Marie Antoinette had no objection to 
the king of his own accord renouncing portions of the power which 
had been claimed and exerted by his predecessors, she would not 
hear of the States taking upon themselves to impose such sacri- 
fices on him, or to curtail his authority by any exercise of their 
own ; and she rejected with something like disdain the support 
of those whose alliance was only to be purchased on such condi- 
tions. Barnave, like Mirabeau, felt insulted ; determined to re- 
venge himself, and for a while united himself to the fiercest of 
the Republicans ; while the Right, with incredible folly, often play- 
ed into his hand, joining the Left, of which many members avow- 
edly aimed at the abolition of royalty, and with none of whom 
they had one opinion or sentiment in common to defeat the Con- 
stitutionalists, with whom they practically had but very slight dif- 
ferences. And thus, as with a base pusillanimity, many, both of 
the Right and of the Plain, fled from the country after the tu- 
mults of October, the mastery of the Assembly gradually fell into 
the hands of that party which contained by far fewer men of abil- 
ity or honesty than either of the others, bjjt which surpassed them 
both in distinctness of object, and in unscrupulous resolution to 
carry out its views. 

But the events of July, the mutiny of the troops, the successful 
insurrection of the mob, the destruction of the Bastile, and the vis- 
it of Louis to Paris, had been a series of damaging blows to the 
Government ; and as each successive exploit gave encouragement 
to the movement party, events proceeded with extreme rapidity. 
Necker, who returned to Versailles on the 27th of July, showed 
more clearly than ever his unfitness for the chief post in the ad- 
ministration at such a crisis, by devoting himself solely to finan- 
cial arrangements, and omitting to take, on the part of the crown, 
the initiative in any one of the reforms which the king had prom- 
ised. Those he permitted to be intrusted to a committee of the 
Assembly ; and the committee had scarcely met when the Assem- 
bly took the matter into its own hands ; and in a strange panic, 
and at a single sitting, swept away the privileges of both Nobles 

* " Memoires de la Princesse de Lamballe," i., p. 342. 



DISCUSSION OP THE " VETOy 273 

and clergy, those who seemed personally most concerned in their 
maintenance being the foremost in urging their suppression. A 
member of the oldest nobility proposed the abolition of the priv- 
ileges of the Nobles. A bishop moved the extinction of tithes ; 
Bretons, Burgundians, Provencals, renounced for their fellow-citi- 
zens the old distinctions and immunities to which each province 
had hitherto clung with an unyielding if somewhat unreasoning 
attachment ; and the whole was crowned by the Archbishop of 
Paris proposing a celebration of the Te Deum as an expression 
of gratitude to God for having inspired a series of actions calcu- 
lated to confer so much happiness on the nation. 

Though he could not avoid seeing the mischievous character of 
many of the resolutions thus tumultuously passed, and though his 
royal assent to them was asked in language unceremonious and 
almost peremptory in its curtness, Louis could not bring himself, 
or perhaps did not venture, to refuse his sanction to them. He 
had laid down a rule for himself to refuse no concession except 
such as on religious grounds his conscience might revolt from ; 
and on the 13th he signified his formal acceptance of the resolu- 
tions, and of the title of " Restorer of French Liberty." It was an 
act of great weakness, and was rewarded, as such acts generally 
are, by further encroachments on his authority. The progress of 
the Left was not even arrested by a quarrel between some of its 
members (who, being clergymen, were not inclined to be reduced 
to beggary by the extinction of their incomes), and Mirabeau, who, 
not unnaturally, bore the priests especial ill-will. Before the end 
of the month, the Assembly even deprived the king of the power 
of withholding his assent from measures which it might pass, en- 
acting that he should no longer possess an absolute " veto," as it 
was called, and Necker, exhibiting on this question an incapacity 
more glaring than even his former conduct had displayed, induced 
the king to yield this point also ; and to express his own prefer- 
ence for what its contrivers called a suspensive veto — a power, 
that is, of withholding his assent to any measure till it had been 
passed by two successive Assemblies. The discussions on this 
most momentous point had been very vehement in the Assembly 
itself ; and, besides the greatness of the principle involved in the 
decision, they have a peculiar importance as showing that Mira- 
beau had not the absolute power over the minds of the members 
which he believed himself to possess ; since he contended with all 
the energy of his temper, and with irresistible force of argument, 

18 



274 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

against a vote which, as he declared, could only take the power 
from the king to vest it in the Assembly, and yet was wholly un- 
able to carry more than a small minority with him in his opposition. 

And this defeat may have had some share in prompting him 
to countenance and aid, if indeed he was not the original con- 
triver of, a plot which was undoubtedly intended to produce a 
change in the whole frame-work of the Government. The harvest 
had been bad, and at the beginning of September Paris was suffer- 
ing under a scarcity almost as severe as had ever been felt in the 
depth of winter. The emergency was so great that the king sent 
all his plate to the Mint to be melted down, to procure money to 
purchase food for the starving citizens ; and many patriotic indi- 
viduals, Necker himself being among the most munificent, gave 
their plate and jewels for the same benevolent object. But relief 
procured from such sources was unavoidably of too limited a 
character to last long. Though Necker proposed and the Assem- 
bly voted taxes of prodigious amount, they could not at once be 
made available, and some of the lower classes were said to have 
died of actual famine. In their distress the citizens looked to 
the king, and attributed their misery in a great degree to his ig- 
norance of their situation, which was caused by his living at Ver- 
sailles. They nicknamed him the " Baker," as if he could supply 
them with bread, and began to clamor for him at least to take up 
an occasional residence among them in his capital. From raising 
a cry, the step was easy to organize a riot to compel him to do 
so. And to this object the partisans of the Duke of Orleans, as- 
sisted, if not prompted, by Mirabeau, now began to apply them- 
selves, hoping that the result would be the deposition of Louis 
and the enthronement of the duke, who might be glad to take 
the great orator for his prime minister. 

So certain did the conspirators feel of success, that they took 
no pains to keep their machinations secret. As early as the mid- 
dle of September intelligence was received at Versailles that the 
Parisians would march upon that town in force on the 5th of 
October; and the Assembly was greatly alarmed, believing, not 
without reason, that the object of the intended attack was to 
overawe and overbear them. The magistrates of the town were 
even more terrified, and besought the king to bring up at least 
one regiment for their protection. And, prudent and reasonable 
as the request was, the compliance with it furnished the agents 
of sedition with pretexts for further violence. 



BANQUET AT VERSAILLES. 275 

A regiment, known as that of Flanders, was sent for from the 
frontiers, and speedily arrived at Versailles, when, according to 
their old and hospitable fashion, the Body-guard,* who regarded 
Versailles as their home, invited the officers, and with them the 
officers of the Swiss Guard, and those of the town militia also, to 
a banquet on the 1st of October. The opera-house, as had often 
been done in similar instances, was lent for the occasion ; and the 
boxes were filled with the chief ladies of the court and of the 
town, and also with many members of the Assembly, as specta- 
tors. So enthusiastic were the acclamations that greeted the 
toast of the king's health, that,, though Marie Antoinette had 
previously desired that the royal family should not appear to 
have any connection with the entertainment, the captain of the 
guard, the Count de Luxembourg, had no difficulty in persuading 
her that it would but be a graceful recognition of such sponta- 
neous and sincere loyalty at such a time if she were to honor 
the banquet with her presence, though but by the briefest visit. 
Louis, too, accepted the proposal with greater warmth than usual, 
and when the royal pair with their children — the queen, as was 
her custom, leading one in each hand — descended from their 
apartments and walked through the banquet-hall, the enthusiasm 
was redoubled. The spectators, among whom were many mem- 
bers of the Assembly, caught the contagion. Loyal cheers re- 
sounded from every part of the theatre, and the feelings excited 
became so fervid that some officers of the National Guard, who 
were among the guests, reversed their new tricolor cockade, and, 
displaying the white side outermost, seemed to have resumed the 
time-honored badge under which the army had reaped all its old 
glories. The band struck up a favorite air from one of the new 
operas, " Peut - on affliger ce qu'on aime ?" which those who saw 
the anxiety which recent events had already stamped upon the 
queen's majestic brow could hardly avoid applying to their royal 
mistress; and when it followed it up by Blondel's lamentation 
for Richard, " O Richard, O mon roi, I'univers t'abandonne," the 
first notes of the well-known song touched a chord in every heart, 
and the whole company, courtiers, ladies, soldiers, and deputies, 
were all carried away in a perfect delirium of loyal rapture. The 
whole company escorted the royal family back to their apart- 
ments ; though it was remarked afterward that some of the sol- 

* Les Gardes du Corps. 



2Y6 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

diers, who on this occasion were the most vociferous in their ex- 
ultation, were, before the end of the same week, among the most 
furious threateners and assailants of the palace. 

But a demonstration such as this, in which the whole number 
of the soldiers concerned did not exceed fifteen hundred men, 
could not deter the organizers of the impending riot from carry- 
ing out their plan : if it did not even aid them by the opportuni- 
ties which it afEorded for spreading abroad exaggerated accounts 
of what had taken place, as an additional proof of the settled ha- 
tred and contempt which the court entertained for the people. 
Mirabeau had suggested that the best chance of success for an in- 
surrection in Paris lay in placing women at its head ; and, in com- 
pliance with his hint, at day-break on the appointed morning a 
woman of notorious infamy of character moved toward the chief 
market-place of Paris, beating a drum, and calling on all who 
heard her to follow her.* She soon gathered round her a troop 
of followers worthy of such a leader, market-women, fish-women, 
and men in women's clothes, whose deep voices, and the power 
with which they brandished their weapons, betrayed their sex 
through their disguise. 

One man, Maillard, who had been conspicuous as one of the 
fiercest of the stormers of the Bastile, disdained any concealment 
or dress but his own ; they chose him for their leader, mingling 
with their cries for bread horrid threats against the queen and 
the aristocrats. Their numbers increased till they felt themselves 
strong enough to attack the H6tel de Ville, A detachment of 
the National Guard who were on duty offered them no resistance, 
pleading that they had received no orders from La Fayette ; and 
the rioters, now amounting to many thousands, having armed 
themselves from the store of muskets and swords which they 
found in the armory, passed on to the barrier and took the road 
to Versailles. 

The riot had lasted four hours, and the very last of the rioters 
had already passed through the gates before La Fayette reached 
the Hotel de Ville, though his ofiice of Commander of the Na- 
tional Guard made the preservation of tranquillity one of his most 
especial duties. He had evidently feared to risk his popularity 
by resisting the mob, and even now he refused to act at all till he 
had received a written order from the Municipal Council ; and, 

* Louis Blanc, iii., p. 156, quoting the Procedure du Chatelet. 



PREPARATIONS FOR RIOT. 211 

when lie had obtained that, he did not obey it; but preferred 
complying with the demands of his own soldiers, who insisted on 
following the rioters to Versailles, where they would exterminate 
the regiment of Flanders ; bring the king back to Paris ; and 
perhaps depose him and appoint a Eegent. Yet even this open 
avowal of their treasonable views did not deter their unworthy 
general from submitting to their dictates. He had indeed no de- 
sire for the success of their designs ; for he had no connection 
with the Due d'Orleans, and no inclination to co-operate with 
Mirabeau, who he knew was in the habit of speaking of him with 
contempt ; but he had not firmness to resist their demand. His 
vanity, too, always his most predominant feeling, was flattered by 
the desire they expressed to retain him as their commander, and 
at last he procured from the magistrates a fresh order, authoriz- 
ing him to comply with the soldiers' clamor, and to lead them to 
Versailles. 

When before the magistrates he had professed an expectation 
that he should be able to induce the king to comply with the 
wishes of the Assembly, and a determination to restrain the ex- 
cesses of the mob ; but the whole day had been so wasted by his 
irresolution that when he at last put his regiment in motion it 
was seven o'clock in the evening — full four hours after Maillard 
and his fish-women had reached Versailles. The news of their 
approach and of their designs had been brought to the palace by 
Monsieur de Chinon, the eldest son of the Due de Richelieu, who, 
at great personal risk, had disguised himself as an artisan, and had 
marched some way with the crowd to learn their object. He re- 
ported that even the women and children were armed, that the 
great majority were drunk; that they were beguiling the way 
with the most ferocious threats, and that they had been joined by 
a gang of men who gave themselves the name of " Coupe-tetes," 
and boasted that they should have ample opportunity of proving 
their title to it. 

In addition to the warnings previously received, a rumor had 
reached the palace on the preceding evening that the Due d'Or- 
leans had come down to Versailles in disguise,* a movement 
which could hardly have an innocent object ; but so little heed 
had been given to the intelligence, or, it may perhaps be said, so 
little was it supposed that, if such an attack was really meditated, 

* "Souvenirs de la Marquise de Crequy," vol. vii.,p. 119. 



278 LIFE OF MAEIE ANTOINETTE. 

any warning would have been given, that Monsieur de Chinon 
found the palace empty. Louis had gone to hunt in the Bois de 
Meudon ; Marie Antoinette was at the Little Trianon. But mes- 
sengers easily found them. The queen came in with speed from 
her garden, which she was destined never to behold again ; the 
king hastened back from his coverts ; and by the time that they 
returned, the Count de St. Priest, the Minister of the Household, 
had their carriages ready for them to retire to Rambouillet, and 
he earnestly pressed the adoption of such a course. Louis, as 
usual, could not make up his mind. He sat in his chair, repeat- 
ing that it was a moment to think seriously. "Rather," said 
Marie Antoinette, " say that it is a time to act promptly." He 
would gladly have had her depart with her children, but she re- 
fused to leave him, declaring that her place Avas by his side ; that, 
as the daughter of Maria Teresa, she did not fear death ; and aft- 
er a time he changed his mind and ceased to wish even her to re- 
tire, clinging to his old conviction that conciliation was always 
possible. He believed that he had won over even the worst of 
the mob, and that all danger was past. 

Versailles witnessed a strange scene that morning. The mo- 
ment that the mob reached the town, they forced their way into 
the Assembly Hall, where Mail lard, as their spokesman, after ter- 
rifying the members with ferocious threats against the whole 
body of the Nobles, demanded that the Assembly should send a 
deputation to the king to represent to him the distress of the 
people, and that a party of the women should accompany it. 
Louis consented to receive them, and when they reached the pal- 
ace, the women, disorderly and ferocious as they were, were so 
awed by the magnificence and pomp which they beheld, and by 
the actual presence of the king and queen, that they could only 
summon up a few modest and humble words of petition, and one, 
a young and pretty girl of seventeen, fainted with the excitement. 
One of the princesses brought her a glass of water : she recover- 
ed, and, as she knelt to kiss the king's hand, Louis kissed her 
himself, and, transported by his affability, she and her compan- 
ions quit the apartment, uttering loud cheers for the king and 
queen. But this had not been the impression which their lead- 
ers had intended them to receive ; and, when they reached the 
streets, their new-born loyalty so exasperated their comrades that 
the soldiers had some difficulty in saving them from their fury. 

Meanwhile, the mob increased every hour. They occupied the 



THE MOB AT VERSAILLES. 279 

court-yard of the palace, roaring out ferocious threats, the most 
sanguinary of which were directed against the queen. The Pres- 
ident of the Assembly moved that the members should adjourn 
and repair to the palace for the protection of the royal family, 
but Mirabeau resisted the proposal, and procured its rejection ; 
and when a large party of the members went, as individuals, to 
place their services at the king's disposal, he mingled with the 
rioters, tampering with the soldiers, and urging them to espouse 
what he called the cause of the people. As it grew dark, the 
crowd grew more and more tumultuous and violent. The Body- 
guard, who were all gentlemen, were faithful and fearless ; but it 
began to be seen that none of the other troops, not even the reg- 
iment of Flanders, could be trusted. Some of them even fired on 
the Body-guard, and mortally wounded its commander, the Mar- 
quis de Savonieres ; while Louis, adhering to his unhappy policy 
of conciliation even at such a moment, sent down orders to the 
officer who succeeded to the command that the men were not to 
use their weapons, and that all bloodshed was to be avoided. 
" Tell the king," replied M. d'Huillier, " that his orders shall be 
obeyed ; but that we shall all be assassinated." 

The mob grew fiercer when it became known that La Fayette 
and his regiment were approaching. No one knew what course 
he might take, but the ringleaders of the rioters resolved on a 
strenuous effort to render his arrival useless by their previous suc- 
cess. Guns were fired, heavy blows were dealt on the railings of 
the inner court-yard and on the gates ; and the danger seemed so 
imminent that the mob might force its way into the palace, that 
the deputies themselves besought the king to delay no longer, 
but to retire to Rambouillet. He was still irresolute, and still 
trusting to his plan of conciliating by non-resistance. The queen, 
though more earnest than ever that he should depart, still nobly 
adhered to her own view of duty, and refused to leave him ; but, 
hoping that he might change his mind, she gave a written order 
to keep the carriages harnessed, and to prepare to force a passage 
for them if the life of the king should appear to be in danger ; but, 
she added, they were not to be used if she alone were threatened. 

At last, when it was nearly midnight. La Fayette arrived. 
With a singular perverseness of folly, at a time when every mo- 
ment was of consequence, he had halted his men a mile out of 
the town to make them a speech in praise of himself and his own 
loyalty, and to administer to them an oath to be faithful to the 



280 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

nation, to the law, and to the king ; an oath needless if they were 
inclined to keep it ; useless, if they were not ; and in the state 
of feeling then common, mischievous in the order in which he 
ranged the powers to which he required them to profess alle- 
giance. At last he reached the palace. Leaving his men below, 
he ascended to the king's apartments, and, laying his hand on his 
heart, assured the king that he had no more loyal servant than 
himself. Louis was not given to sarcasm: yet some of the by- 
standers fancied that there was a tone of irony in his voice when 
in reply he expressed his conviction of the marquis's sincerity ; 
and perhaps La Fayette thought so too, for he proceeded to ha- 
rangue his majesty on his favorite subject of his own courage ; de- 
scribing the dangers which, as he affirmed, he had incurred in the 
course of the day. After which he descended into the court-yard 
to assure the soldiers that the king had promised to accede to 
their wishes; and then returned to the royal apartments to in- 
form the king that contentment was restored, and that he himself 
would be responsible for the tranquillity of the night. 

The royal family, exhausted with the fatigues of so terrible a 
day, retired to rest, the queen expressly enjoining her ladies to 
follow her example. Fortunately they were too anxious for her 
safety to obey her, and, with their own attendants, kept watch in 
the room outside her bed-chamber. But La Fayette, in spite of 
the responsibility which he had taken upon himself, felt no such 
anxiety. He declared himself tired and sleepy ; and, leaving the 
palace, went to a friend's house to ask for a bed.* Yet he well 
knew that the crowd was still assembled around the palace, and 
was increasing in violence. Though the night was stormy and 
wet, the rioters sought no shelter except such as was afforded by a 
hurried resort to the wine-shops in the neighborhood, where they 
inflamed their intoxication, and from which they soon returned to 
renew their savage clamor and threats, increasing the disorder by 
keeping up a frequent fire of their muskets. Throughout the 

* There is some uncertainty where La Fayette slept that night. Lacretelle 
says it was at the " Maison du Prince de Poix, fort eloignee du ch3,teau.'' 
Count Dumas, meaning to be as favorable to him as possible, places him at 
the Hotel de Noailles, which is " not one hundred paces from the iron gates 
of the chapel " (" Memoirs of the Count de Dumas," i., p. 159). However, the 
nearer he was to the palace, the more incomprehensible it is that he should 
not have reached the palace the next morning till nearly eight o'clock, two 
hours after the mob had forced their entrance into the Cour des Princes. 



THE MOB ATTACKS THE PALACE. 281 

niglit tlie Due d'Oi'leans was briskly going to and fro, his emissa- 
ries scattering money among the rioters, who seemed to have no 
definite purpose or plan, till, as day began to break, one of the 
gates leading into the Princes' Court was seen to be open. It 
had been intrusted to some of La Fayette's soldiers, and could 
not have been opened without treachery. The crowd poured in, 
uttering fiercer threats than ever, from the belief that their prey 
was within their reach. There was, in truth, nothing between 
them and the staircase which led to the royal apartments except 
two gallant gentlemen, M. des Huttes and M. Moreau, the sentries 
of the detachment of the Body-guard on duty, whose quarters 
were at the head of the staircase in a saloon opposite to the 
queen's chamber. But these brave men were worthy of the best 
days of the French army. The more formidable the mob, and 
the greater the danger, the more imperative to their loyal hearts 
was the duty to defend those whose safety was intrusted to their 
vigilance ; and with so dauntless a front did they stand to their 
posts that for a moment the ruffians recoiled and shrunk from at- 
tacking them, till D'Orleans himself came forward, waving to 
them with his hand a signal to force the way in, and pointing out 
to them which way to take. 

What, then, could two men effect against such a multitude? 
Des Huttes perished, pierced by a hundred pikes, and torn into 
pieces by his blood-thirsty assailants. Moreau, with equal valor, 
but with better fortune, backed up the stairs, fighting so desperate- 
ly as he retreated that he gave his comrades time to barricade the 
doors leading to the queen's apartments, and to come to his assist- 
ance. As they drew him back, terribly wounded, into the guard- 
room, De Varicourt and Durepaire took his place. De Varicourt 
was soon slain, but Durepaire, a man of prodigious strength and 
prowess, held the assassins at bay for some time, till he too fell, 
reduced to helplessness by a score of deep wounds ; when he, in 
his turn, was replaced by Miomandre. His devotion and intrepid- 
ity equaled that of his comrades ; he was eminently skillful also 
in the use of his weapons, and with his own hand he struck down 
many of his assailants, till he was gradually forced back by num- 
bers, when he placed his musket as a barrier across the door-way, 
and thus still kept his enemies at bay, while he shouted to the 
queen's ladies, now separated from him by but a single partition, 
to save the queen, for " the tigers with whom he was struggling 
were aimina; at her life." 



282 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

In the annals of tlie ancient cliivalry of the nation it had been 
recorded as the most brilliant feat of Bayard, that, on a bridge of 
the Garigliano, he had for a while, with his single arm, stemmed 
the onset of two hundred Spaniards ; and that glorious exploit of 
the model hero of the nation had never been more faithfully cop- 
ied and more nobly rivaled than it was on this morning of shame 
and danger by Miomandre and his intrepid comrades, as they suc- 
cessively stepped into the breach to fight against those whom he 
truly called, not men, but tigers. It was but a brief moment be- 
fore he too was struck down ; but he had gained for the ladies a 
respite sufficient to enable them to secure the safety of their roy- 
al mistress. They roused her from her bed, for her fatigue had 
been so great that she had hitherto slept soundly through the up- 
roar, and hurried her oS to the apartments of the king, who, hav- 
ing been just similarly awakened, was coming to seek her ; and in 
a few minutes the whole family was collected in his antechamber ; 
while the Body-guard occupied the queen's bedroom, and the riot- 
ers, balked of their intended victim, were pillaging the different 
rooms into which they had been able to make their way. Luck- 
ily, La Fayette was still absent : he was having his hair dressed 
with great composure, while the mob, for whose contentment and 
orderly behavior he had vouched, was plundering the royal palace 
and seeking its owners to murder them ; and in his absence the 
Marquis de Vaudreuil and a body of nobles took upon themselves 
the office of defenders of the crown, and, going down to the 
court-yard, reproached the National Guard with their inaction at 
such a moment of danger, and with their manifest sympathy with 
the rioters. At first, out of mere shame, the National Guard at- 
tempted to justify themselves : " they had been told," they said, 
" that the Body-guard were the aggressors ; that they had attack- 
ed the people." "Do you pretend to believe," said the gallant 
marquis, " that two hundred men have been mad enough to at- 
tack thirty thousand ?" The argument was irresistible ; they de- 
clared that if the Body-guard would assume the tricolor, they 
would stand by them as brothers. And, by a reaction not un- 
common at such times of excitement, the two regiments became 
reconciled in a moment. As no tricolor cockades could be pro- 
cured, they exchanged shakos, and, in many cases, arms. And 
presently, when the Coup-tetes, after mutilating the bodies of two 
of the Body-guard who had been killed on the previous evening, 
were preparing to murder two or three more who had fallen into 



HEROIC DEMEANOR OF THE QUEEN. 283 

their hands, the National Guard dashed to their rescue, shouting- 
out, with a curious identification of their force with the old 
French army, that " they would save the Body-guard who saved 
them at Fontenoy," and brought them off unhurt. 

Balked of their expected prey, the rioters grew more furious 
than ever ; in useless wrath they kept firing against the walls of 
the palace, and shouting out a demand for the queen to show her- 
self. She, with her children, was still in the king's apartment, 
where the princesses, the ministers, and a few courtiers were also 
assembled. Necker, in an agony of terror and distress, sat with 
his face buried in his hands, unable to offer any advice ; La Fay- 
ette, who had just arrived, dwelt upon the dangers which he had 
riin, though no one else knew what they were, and assured the 
king of the power which he still possessed to allay the tumult, if 
the reasonable demands of the people (as he called them) were 
granted. Marie Antoinette alone was undaunted and calm; or, 
at least, if in the depths of her woman's heart she felt terror at 
the sanguinary and obscene threats of her ruffianly enemies, she 
scorned to show it. "When the firing began, M. de Luzerne, one 
of the ministers, had quietly placed himself between her and the 
window ; but, while she thanked him for his devotion, she beg- 
ged him to retire, saying, with her habitually gracious courtesy, 
that it was her place to be there,* not his, since the king could 
not afford to have so faithful a servant endangered. And now, 
holding her little son and daughter, one in each hand, she stepped 
out on the balcony, to confront those who were shouting for her 
blood. " No children !" was their cry. She led the dauphin and 
his sister back into the room, and, returning to the balcony, stood 
before them alone, with her hands crossed and her eyes looking 
up to heaven, as one who expected instant death, with a firmness 
as far removed from defiance as from supplication. Even those 
ruthless miscreants were awed by her magnanimous fearlessness ; 
not a shot was fired ; for a moment it seemed as if her enemies 
had become her partisans. Loud shouts of " Bravo !" and " Long 
live the queen !" were heard on all sides ; and one ruffian, who 
raised his gun to take aim at her, had his weapon beaten down 
by those who stood near him, and ran some risk of being himself 
sacrificed to their indignation. But this impulse of respect, like 
other impulses of such a people, was short-lived, and presently the 

* Weber, i., p. 218. 



284 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

multitude began to raise a shout, whicli expressed the original 
purpose which had led the majority to march upon Versailles. 
" To Paris !" was the cry, and again La Fayette volunteered his 
advice, urging the king to comply with the request. By this 
time Louis had learned the value of the marquis's loyalty. But 
he had no alternative. It was evident that the rioters had the 
power of compelling compliance with their demand. And ac- 
cordingly he authorized the marquis to promise that he would re- 
move his family to Paris, and a few minutes afterward he himself 
went out on the balcony with the queen, and himself announced 
his intention, with the view of giving his act a greater appearance 
of being voluntarily resolved upon. 

Soon after midday he set out, accompanied by the queen, his 
brother the Count de Provence, his sister the Princess Elizabeth, 
and his children. It was a strange and shameful retinue that es- 
corted the King of France to his capital. One party of the riot- 
ers, with Maillard and another ruffian named Jourdan, the chief 
of the Coupe-tetes, at their head, had started two hours before, 
bearing aloft in triumph the heads of the mangled Body-guards, 
and combining such hideous mockery with their barbarity that 
they halted at Sevres to compel a barber to dress the hair on the 
lifeless skulls. And now the royal carriage was surrounded by a 
vast and confused medley ; market-women and the rest of the fe- 
male rabble, with drunken gangs of the ruffians who had stormed 
the palace in the morning, still brandishing their weapons, or bear- 
ing loaves of bread on their pike-heads, and singing out that they 
should all have enough of bread now, since they were bringing 
the baker, the bakeress, and the baker's boy to Paris.* The only 
part of the procession that bore even a decent appearance was a 
small escort of different regiments — the Guards, the National 
Guards, and the Body-guards ; many of the latter still bleeding 
from the wounds which they had received in the conflict and tu- 
mult of the morning. A train of carriages containing a depu- 
tation of the members of the Assembly also followed; Mirabeau 
himself having just carried a motion that the Assembly was in- 
separable from the king, and that wherever he was there must be 
the place of meeting for the great council of the nation. Yet, 
in spite of the confidence which their presence might have been 

* Le Boulanger (the king), la Boulangere (the queen), et le petit mitron 
(the dauphin). 



EFFRONTERY OFRAILLT, AND DIGNITY OF LOUIS. 285 

expected to diffuse among the mob, and in spite of the hopes of 
coming plenty which the rioters themselves announced, the royal 
party was not even yet safe from further attacks. Some ruffians 
stabbed at the royal carriage as it passed with their pikes, and 
several shots were fired at it, though fortunately they missed their 
aim and no one was injured.* 

To the queen the journey was more painful than to any one else. 
A few weeks before she had congratulated Mademoiselle de Lam- 
balle on not being a mother — perhaps the bitterest exclamation 
that grief and anxiety ever wrung from her lips ; and now the 
keenest anxieties of a mother were indeed added to those of a 
queen. The procession moved with painful slowness. No pro- 
visions had been taken in the carriage, and the little dauphin was 
sufiering from hunger and begging for some food. Tears, which 
her own danger could not bring to her eyes, flowed plentifully as 
she witnessed the suffering of her child. She could only beg him 
to bear his privations with patience ; and she had the reward of 
the pains she had always taken to inspire him with confidence in 
her, in the fortitude with which, for the rest of the day, he bore 
what to children of his age is probably the severest hardship to 
which they can be exposed, f 

So vast and disorderly was the procession that it was nine 
o'clock at night before it reached Paris. Bailly again met the 
royal carriage at the barrier, and, re-assuming the tone of coarse 
insult which he had adopted on the king's previous visit, had the 
effrontery to describe the day, so full of horror to every one, and 
of humiliation and agony to those whom he was addressing, as a 
glorious day. It was at such moments as these that Louis's im- 
passibility assumed the character of dignity. He disdained to 
notice the mayor's insolence, and briefly answered that it was al- 
ways with pleasure and with confidence that he found himself 
among the inhabitants of his good city of Paris. He proceeded 
to the Hotel de Ville, where the council of civic magistrates was 
sitting ; and where the president addressed him in language which 
afforded a marked contrast to that of the mayor, calling him " an 
adored father who had come to visit the place where he could 
meet with the greatest number of his children." And it seemed 
as if Bailly himself had become in some degree ashamed of his 



* "Souvenirs de la Marquise de Crequy," vii., p. 123, 
f Weber, ii., p. 226. 



286 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

insolence ; for now, when Louis desired him, in reply to the pres- 
ident's address, to repeat the answer which he had made to him 
at the barrier, he merely said that the king had come with pleas- 
ure among the Parisians. " The king, sir," interrupted the queen, 
" added, ' and with confidence.' " " Gentlemen," said Bailly, 
"you hear her majesty's words. You are happier in doing so 
than if I myself had uttered them." The whole company burst 
into one rapturous cheer, and at their request the king and queen 
showed themselves for a few minutes at the windows, beneath 
which, late as the hour was, a vast multitude was still collected, 
which received them with vociferous cheers. And then the royal 
family, quitting the Hotel, drove to the Tuileries, where their at- 
tendants had been hastily making such preparations as a few 
hours allowed for their reception. 

Since the completion of the Palace at Versailles the Tuileries 
had been almost deserted.* The paint and gilding were tarnish- 
ed, the curtains were faded, many most necessary articles of fur- 
niture were altogether wanting; and the whole was so shabby 
that it attracted the notice of even the little dauphin. " How 
bad, mamma," said he, " every thing looks here." " My boy," 
she replied, " Louis XIV. lived here comfortably enough." But 
they had not yet decided on making it their permanent residence. 
La Fayette, who had tried to induce the king to promise to do so, 
had been distinctly refused ; and for some days Louis did not 
make up his mind. But, after a time, the fear, if he should pro- 
pose to return to Versailles, of being met by an opposition on the 
part of the Assembly or the civic magistrates, which he might be 
unable to surmount, or, if he should again settle there, of his ab- 
sence from the city furnishing a pretext for fresh tumults, caused 
him to announce his intention of making Paris his principal abode 
for the future. He gave orders for the removal of some furni- 
ture and of the queen's library to the Tuileries ; and, with some- 
thing of the apathy of despair, began to reconcile himself to his 
new abode and his changed position. 

* " Souvenirs de Quarante Ans," p. 47. 



BBEAB FOREBODING OF THE QUEEN. 287 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

Feelings of Marie Antoinette on coming to the Tuileries. — Her Tact in win- 
ning the Hearts of the Common People. — Mirabeau changes his Views. — 
Quarrel between La Fayette and the Due d'Orleans. — Mirabeau desires to 
oifer his Services to the Queen. — Riots in Paris. — Murder of Fran9ois. — 
The Assembly pass a Vote prohibiting any Member from taking Office. — 
The Emigration. — Death of the Emperor Joseph II. — Investigation into 
the Riots of October. — The Queen refuses to give Evidence. — Violent Pro- 
ceedings in the Assembly. — Execution of the Marquis de Favras. 

The comment made by Marie Antoinette on quitting Versailles 
was that " they were undone ; they were being dragged off, per- 
haps to death, which was never far removed from captive sover- 
eigns ;"* and such henceforward was her prevailing feeling. She 
may occasionally, prompted by her own innate courage and san- 
guineness of disposition, have cherished a short-lived hope, found- 
ed on a consciousness of the king's and her own purity of inten- 
tion, or on a belief, which she never wholly discarded, in the nat- 
ural goodness of heart of the French people when not led astray 
by demagogues; and of their impulsive levity of disposition, 
which seemed to make no change of temper on their part impos- 
sible ; but her general feeling was one of humiliation for the past 
and despair for the future. Not only did the example of Charles 
I., whose fate was ever before her eyes, fill her with dread for her 
husband's life (to her own danger she never gave a thought), but 
she felt also that the cause and principle of royalty had been de- 
graded by the shameful scenes through which she had lately pass- 
ed ; and we shall fail to do justice to the patience, fortitude, and 
energy of her conduct during the remainder of her life, if we al- 
low ourselves to forget that these high qualities were maintained 
and exerted in spite of the most depressing circumstances and 
the most discouraging convictions ; that she was struggling be- 
cause it was her duty to struggle for her husband's honor and her 
child's inheritance ; but that she was never long sustained by 

* Madame de Campan, ch. xv. 



288 LIFE OP MAMIE ANTOINETTE. 

that incentive which, with so many, is absolutely indispensable to 
steady and useful exertion — the anticipation of eventual success. 
A letter which the very next morning she wrote to Mercy, who 
fortunately still retained his old post as embassador, shows the 
courage with which she still caught at every circumstance which 
seemed in the least hopeful ; and with what unfaltering tact she 
sought every opportunity of acting on the impulsiveness which 
she regarded as one chief characteristic of the French people. 

" October Yth, 1789. 

" I am quite well. You may be easy about me. If we could 
only forget where we are and how we came here, we ought to be 
satisfied with the feelings of the people, especially this morning. 
I hope, if bread does not fall short, that many things will return 
to their proper order. I speak to the people, militia, fish-women, 
and all : all offer me their hands ; I give them mine. In the H6- 
tel de Ville I was personally well received. The people this morn- 
ing begged us to remain here. I answered them, speaking for 
the king, who was by my side, that it depended on themselves 
whether we remained ; that we desired nothing better ; that all an- 
imosities must be laid aside ; that the slightest renewal of blood- 
shed would make us flee with horror. Those who were near- 
est to me swore that all that was over. I told the fish-women to 
go and tell others all that we had just said to one another."* 

And a day or two later, on the 10th, even while giving fuller 
expression to her feelings of unhappiness, and of disgust at the 
events of the past week, as to which she assures Mercy that " no 
description could be exaggerated ; on the contrary, that any ac- 
count must fall far short of what the king and she had seen and 
experienced," she yet repeats that " she hopes to bring back to a 
right feeling the honest and sound portion of the citizens and 
people. Unhappily, however," as she adds, " they are not the 
most numerous body. Still, with gentleness and unwearied pa- 
tience, she may hope that at least she shall succeed in doing away 
with the horrible distrust which occupies every mind, and which 
has dragged the king and herself into the gulf in which they are 
at present." So keen at this time was her feeling that one prin- 
cipal cause of their miseries was the unjust distrust which the cit- 
izens in general conceived of the views and designs of the court, 

* F. de Conches, p. 264. 



INSOLENCE OF A VIRAGO TO HER MAJESTY. 289 

that slie desires Mercy not to try to see her; and, while she de- 
scribes the scantiness of the accommodation which her attendants 
had as yet been able to provide for her, so that Madame Royale 
had a bed in her dressing-roonj, and the little dauphin was in her 
own room, she finds advantage in these arrangements, inconven- 
ient as they were, since they prevented any suspicion from arising 
that she was giving audiences which 5he desired to keep secret. 

She did not overrate the impression which she had made on 
the people ; and her faithful attendant, Madame Campan, has pre- 
served more minute details of the events of the Yth than she her- 
self reported to the embassador. She was hardly dressed when a 
huge crowd collected on the terrace under her window, shouting 
for her to show herself; and, when she came forward, they be- 
gan to accost her in a mingled tone of expostulation and menace. 
" She must drive away the courtiers who were the ruin of kings. 
She must love the inhabitants of her good city." She replied 
" that she had always felt so toward them ; she had loved them 
while at Versailles ; she should continue to love them at Paris.'' 
"Ah," interrupted a virago, hardier than her companions, "but 
on the 14th of July you would have besieged and bombarded the 
city ; and on the 6th of October you wanted to flee to the front- 
ier." She answered, in the gentlest tone, that " these were idle 
stories, which they were wrong to believe ; tales like these were 
what caused at once the misery of the people and that of the best 
of kings." Another woman addressed her in German. Marie 
Antoinette declared that " she did not understand what she said ; 
that she had become so completely French that she had forgotten 
her native language ;" and the compliment to their country fairly 
vanquished them. They received it with shouts of " Bravo," and 
with loud clapping of their hands. They begged the ribbons and 
flowers of her bonnet. She took them off with her own hand 
and distributed them among them ; and they divided the spoils 
with thankful exultation, smiling, waving their hands, and cry- 
ing out, " Long live Marie Antoinette ! Long live our good 
queen !"* 

For a time it seemed as if the fortunes of the king and country 
were being weighed in an uncertain balance. One day some cir- 
cumstances seemed to hold out a prospect of the re-establishment 
of tranquillity, and of the return of the masses to a better feeling. 

* Madame de Campan, ch. xv. 
19 



290 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

The next day these favorable appearances were more tlian coun- 
terbalanced by fresh evidences of the increasing power of the fac- 
tious and unscrupulous demagogues. It was greatly in favor of 
the crown that the triumph of the mob on the 6th of October 
had led to violent quarrels between the Due d'Orleans, La Fay- 
ette, and Mirabeau. La Fayette had charged the duke with hav- 
ing entered into a plot to assassinate him, and threatened to im- 
peach him formally if he did not at once quit the kingdom.* 
The duke trembled and consented, easily procuring from the min- 
isters, who were glad to get rid of him, a diplomatic mission to 
England as a pretext for his departure ; and Mirabeau, who de- 
spised both the duke and the marquis, full of contempt for the 
pusillanimity which the former had shown in the quarrel, aban- 
doned all idea of placing him on his cousin's throne. " Make 
him my king !" he exclaimed ; " I would not have him for my 
valet." 

Emboldened by his success with the duke. La Fayette, who had 
great confidence in his own address, next tried to win over or to 
get rid of Mirabeau himself. He proposed to obtain an embassy 
for him also. The suggestion of what was clearly an honorable 
exile in disguise was at once declined.f He then offered him a 
large sum of money, for at that moment he had the entire dis- 
posal of the civil list ; but he found that the great orator was 
disinclined to connect himself with him in any way, much more 
to lay himself under any obligation to him. In fact, Mirabeau 
was at this moment hoping to obtain a post in the home admin- 
istration, where, if he could once succeed in procuring a footing, 
he had no doubt of soon obtaining the entire mastery ; and the 
royal family was hardly settled at the Tuileries before he applied 
to his friend, the Count de la Marck, whom he rightly believed to 
enjoy the queen's good opinion, begging him to express to her his 
ardent wish to serve her. He even drew up a long memorial on 
the existing state of affairs, indicating the line of conduct which, 
in his opinion, the king ought to pursue ; the leading feature of 
which was an early departure from Paris to some city at no great 
distance, that he might be safe and free ; while in the capital it 
was evident that he was neither. And the step which he thus 

* See a letter from M. Huber to Lord Auckland, " Journal and Correspond- 
ence of Lord Auckland," ii., p. 365. 

f La Marck et Mirabeau, ii., pp. 90-93, 254. 



FRESH RIOTS IN PARIS. 291 

recommended at the outset deserves attention as being also that 
on which a year later he still insisted as the indispensable pre- 
liminary to whatever line of conduct might be decided on. 

But at this moment his advice never reached those for whom 
it was intended. La Marck, with all his good-will both to his 
friend and to the court, could not venture to bring before the 
queen's notice the name of one who, only a few days before, had 
denounced her in the foulest manner in the Assembly for having 
appeared at the soldiers' banquet, and whom she with her own 
eyes had beheld uniting with the assailants of the palace. He 
thought it more politic, even for the eventual attainment of his 
friend's objects, to content himself for the time with giving the 
memorial and stating the views of the writer to the Count de 
Provence ; and that prince declared that it would be useless to 
bring it to the knowledge of either king or queen: "that the 
queen had not sufficient influence over her husband to induce 
him to adopt such a plan ;" and he even hinted that at times 
Louis was disposed to be jealous of her appearing to influence 
him. 

But if these circumstances — the quarrel between the enemies of 
the court, and the conversion of one more <able and formidable 
than either — were in the king's favor, other events which took 
place in the same few weeks were full of mischief and danger. 
Before the end of the month fresh riots broke out in Paris. 
Bread, the supply of which Marie Antoinette, as we have seen, 
rightly regarded as a matter of the first importance to the tran- 
quillity of the city, continued scarce and dear; and the mob 
broke open the bakers' shops, and murdered one baker, a man 
named Frangois, with a ferocity more terrible than they had even 
shown toward De Launay, or the guards at Versailles. They tore 
his body to pieces, and, having cut ofE his head, compelled his 
wife to kiss the scarcely cold lips, and then left her fainting on 
the pavement still covered with his blood. Even La Fayette was 
horror-stricken at such brutality. It was the only occasion on 
which he did his duty during the whole progress of the Revolu- 
tion. He came down with a company of the National Guard, 
dispersed the rioters, seized the ruffian who was bearing aloft the 
head of the murdered man on a pole, and caused him to be 
hanged the next day. And during the next few weeks he more 
than once brought his soldiers to the support of the civil power, 
and inflicted summary punishment on gangs of miscreants, whose 



292 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

idea of reform was a state of things which should afford impuni- 
ty to crime. 

But in the next month the Assembly dealt a heavier blow on 
the king's authority than could be inflicted by the worst excesses 
of an informal mob — they passed a resolution prohibiting any 
of its members from accepting any oflSce in the administration : 
it was an imitation of the self-denying ordinance into which Crom- 
well had tricked the English Parliament ; and, though bearing an 
appearance of disinterestedness in closing the access to official 
emoluments and honors against themselves, was in reality an in- 
jury to the king, as depriving him of his right to select his min- 
isters from the entire body of the nation ; and to the nation itself, 
as preventing it from obtaining the services of those who might 
be presumed to be its ablest citizens, as having been already se- 
lected as its representatives. 

But a far more irreparable injury than any that could be in- 
flicted on the court by either populace or Assembly came from 
its friends. We have seen that the Count d'Artois, with some 
nobles who had especial reason to fear the enmity of the Paris- 
ians, had fled from the country in July ; and now their example 
was followed by a vast number of the higher classes, several of 
them having hitherto been prominent as the leaders of the Mod- 
erate or Constitutional section of the Assembly — men who had 
no grounds for complaining that, except in one or two instances, 
at moments of extraordinary excitement, their influence had been 
overborne, but who now yielded to an infectious panic. Before 
the end of the year more than three hundred deputies had re- 
signed their seats and quit the country ; salving over to them- 
selves the dereliction of the duties which a few months before 
they had voluntarily sought, and their performance of which was 
now a more imperative duty than ever, by denunciations of the 
crimes which had been committed, and which they had found 
themselves unable to prevent. They did not see that their pusil- 
lanimous flight must lead to a continuance of such atrocities, leav- 
ing, as it did, the undisputed sway in the Assembly to those very 
men who had been the authors of the outrages of which they 
complained. They were, in fact, insuring the ruin of all that they 
most wished to preserve ; for, in the progress of the debates in 
the Assembly during the winter, many questions of the most vital 
importance were decided by very small majorities, which their 
presence would have turned into minorities. The greater the 



THE EMIGRATION. 293 

danger was, the more irresistible they ought to have felt the 
obligation to stand to the last by the cause of which they were 
the legitimate champions ; and the final triumph of the Jacobin 
party owed hardly more to the energy of its leaders than to the 
cowardly and inglorious flight of the princes and nobles who 
left the field open without resistance to their wickedness and au- 
dacity. 

It was a melancholy winter that the queen now passed. So 
far as she was able, she diverted her mind from political anxie- 
ties by devoting much of her time to the education of her chil- 
dren. A little plot of ground was railed oflf in the garden of the 
Tuileries for the dauphin's* amusement ; and one of her favorite 
relaxations was to watch him working at the flower-beds himself 
with his little hoe and rake ; though, as if to mark that they were 
in fact prisoners, both she and he were followed wherever they 
went by grenadiers of the city -guard, and were not allowed to 
dispense with their attendance for a single moment, Marie An- 
toinette had reason to complain that she was watched as a crimi- 
nal.f Sad as she was at heart, she was not allowed the comfort 
of privacy and retirement. She was forced to hold receptions for 
the nobles and chief citizens, and as the court was now formally 
established at the Tuileries, she dined every week in public with 
the king ; but she steadily resisted the entreaties of some of the 
ministers and courtiers to visit the theatre, thinking, with great 
justice, that an attendance at public spectacles of that character 
would have had an appearance of gayety, as unbecoming, at such 
a period of anxiety, as it was inconsistent with her feelings ; and 
before the end of the winter she sup+ained a fresh affliction in the 
loss of her brother the emperor ;J whose death bore with it the 
additional aggravation of depriving her of a counselor whose ad- 
vice she valued, and of an ally on whose active aid she believed 
that she could rely far more than she could on that of their broth- 
er Leopold, who now succeeded to the imperial throne. 

Not that Leopold can be charged with indifference to his sis- 
ter's welfare. In the very week of his accession to the throne he 
wrote to her with great affection, assuring her of his devotion to 
her interests, and expressing his desire to correspond with her in 
the most unreserved confidence. But the same letter shows that 



* "Arthur Young's Travels," etc., p. 264 ; date, Paris, January 4th, 1'790. 
f Feuillet de Conches, iii., p. 229. % Joseph died February 20th. 



294 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

as yet lie knew but very little of lier ;* and that he regarded the 
difficulties in which some of Joseph's recent measures had in- 
volved the Imperial Government as sufficiently serious to engross 
his attention. A few extracts from her reply are worth preserv- 
ing, as proving how steadily in her conduct and language to ev- 
ery one she adhered to her rule of concealing her husband's de- 
fects, and putting him forward as the first person on whose wishes 
and directions her own conduct must depend. It also shows 
what advances she was herself making in the perception of the 
true character of the crisis, so far as the objects of the few honest 
members who still remained in the Assembly were concerned, and 
the extent to which she was trying to reconcile herself to some 
curtailment of her husband's former authority. 

Thanking him for the assurance of his friendship, she says : 
" Believe me, my dear brother, we shall always be worthy of it. 
I say we, because I do not separate the king from myself. He 
was touched by your letter, as I was myself, and bids me assure 
you of this. His heart is loyalty and honesty itself ; and if ever 
again we become, I do not say what we have been, but at least 
what we ought to be, you may then depend on the entire fidelity 
of a good ally. 

" I do not say any thing to you of our actual position : it is too 
heart-rending. It ought to afflict every sovereign in the universe, 
and still more an affectionate relation like you. It is only time 
and patience that can bring back men's minds to a healthy state. 
It is a war of opinions, and one which is still far from being ter- 
minated. It is only the justice of our cause and the feeling of a 

good conscience that can support us My most sincere wish 

is that you may never meet with ingratitude. My own melan- 
choly experience proves to me that, of all evils, that is the most 
terrible." 

Yet no indignation at the thanklessness of the Parisians could 
chill her constant benevolence toward them ; and amidst all the 
anxieties which filled her mind for herself, her husband, and her 
child, she founded an asylum for the education of a number of 



* " Je me flatte que je la meriterai [I'amitie et confiance] de votre part 
lorsque ma fa9on de penser et mon tendre attachement pour vous, votre epoux, 
vos enfants, et tout ce qui peut vous interesser vous seront mieux connus." — 
Arneth, p. 120. Leopold had been for many years absent from Germany, be- 
ing at Florence as Grand Duke of Tuscany. 



CHANGE OF MIRABEAV'S VIEWS. 295 

orphan daughters of old soldiers, and found time to give her care- 
ful attention to a code of regulations for its management.* 

Meanwhile circumstances were gradually paving the way for 
her accepting the help of him who, during the 'earliest discussions 
of the Assembly, had been, not so much through his own malice 
as through Necker's folly, her worst enemy. We have seen how, 
immediately after the attack on Versailles, Mirabeau had once 
more endeavored to find an opening through which to place him- 
self at her service. He alone, perhaps, of all men in the kingdom, 
perceived the reality and greatness of the danger which threat- 
emed even the lives of the sovereigns ;f and, as amidst all the er- 
rors into which his regard for his own interests, his vindictiveness, 
or his caprice impelled him, he always preserved the perceptions 
and instincts of a genuine statesman, many of the transactions of 
the winter increased his conviction of the peril in which every 
interest in the whole kingdom was placed, if the headlong folly 
of the Assembly could not be restrained, and if even, proverbially 
difficult as such a course is, some of its acts could not be rescind- 
ed ; while one transaction, which, more than any other that had 
yet taken place, showed the greatness of the queen's heart, much 
sharpened his eagerness to pi'ove himself a worthy servant of so 
noble-minded a mistress. 

Some of the magistrates who still desired to discharge their 
duty had instituted an investigation into the conspiracy which 
had originated the attack on Versailles, and all its multiplied hor- 
rors. They had examined a great body of witnesses, whose evi- 
dence left no doubt of the active part taken in it by the Due 
d'Orleans and his partisans, and by Mirabeau, whether he were to 
be included among that prince's adherents or not ; but they con- 
ceived it specially important to procure the testimony of the 
queen herself. However, it was in vain that they applied to her 
for the slightest information. Appeals to her indignation, to her 
pride, and to her danger, were equally disregarded by her. No 
denunciation of those who, whatever had been their crimes, were 

* Feuillet de Conches, iii., p. 260. 

f As early as the second week in October (La Marck, p. 81, seems to place 
the conversation even before the outrages of October 5th and 6th ; but this 
seems impossible, and may arise from his manifest desire to represent Mira- 
beau as unconnected with those horrors), Mirabeau said to La Marck, " Tout 
est perdu, le roi et la reine y periront et vous le verrez, la populace battra 
leurs cadavres." 



296 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

still the subjects of her husband, could, in her eyes, be becoming 
to her as queen ; and when those who hoped to make a tool of 
her to crush their political rivals urged that no evidence would be 
accepted as equally conclusive with hers, since no one had seen so 
much of what had taken place, or had in so great a degree pre- 
served that coolness which was indispensable to a clear account 
of it, and to the identification of the guilty, her reply was a dig- 
nified and magnanimous pardon of the outrages beneath which 
she had so nearly perished. " I have seen every thing ; I have 
known every thing; I have forgotten every thing;" and Mira- 
beau, not unthankful for the protection which her magnanimity 
thus threw around him, was eager to make atonement for his past 
insults and injuries. 

And many of the recent events had convinced him that there 
was no time to lose. The vote of November, debarring him, in 
common with all other members of the Assembly, from office, 
was a severe blow to the most important of his projects, so far as 
his own interests were concerned. Within a month it had been 
followed by another, proposed by the Abbe Sieyes, a busy priest 
who boasted that he had made himself master of the whole sci- 
ence of politics, but who was in fact a mere slave of abstract 
theories, the safety or even the practicability of which he was ut- 
terly unable to estimate. On his motion, the Assembly, in a sin- 
gle evening, abolished all the ancient territorial divisions of the 
kingdom, and the very names of the provinces; dividing the 
country anew into eighty-three departments, and coupling with 
this new arrangement a number of details which were evidently 
calculated to wrest the whole executive authority of the kingdom 
from the crown and to vest it in the populace. At another sit- 
ting, the whole property of the Church was confiscated. On an- 
other night, the Parliaments were abolished ; and on a fourth, the 
party which had carried these measures made a still more direct 
and audacious attack on the roj^al prerogative, by passing a reso- 
lution which deprived the crown of all power of revising the 
sentences of the judicial tribunals, and of pardoning or mitigating 
the punishment of those who might have been condemned. And, 
if to bring home to the tender-hearted monarch the full effect of 
this last inroad upon his legitimate power, they at the same time 
created a new crime to which they gave the name of treason 
against the nation,* without either defining it, or specifying the 

* L^se-nation. 



EXECUTION OF M. BE FAVIiAS. 297 

kind of evidence which should be required to prove it ; and they 
proceeded at once to put it in force to procure the condemnation 
of a nobleman of decayed fortune, but of the highest character, 
the Marquis de Favras, in a manner which showed that their real 
object was to strike terror into the whole Royalist party. The 
charges on which he was brought to trial were not merely un- 
founded, but ridiculous. He was charged with designing to 
raise an army of thirty thousand men, with the object of carry- 
ing off the king from Paris, of dissolving the Assembly by force, 
and putting La Fayette and Bailly to death. The evidence with 
which it was pretended to support these changes broke down on 
every point, and its failure of itself established the prisoner's in- 
nocence, even without the aid of his own defense, which was lucid 
and eloquent. But the marquis was known to be a Royalist in 
feeling, and, though very poor, to stand high in the confidence of 
the princes. The demagogues collected mobs round the court- 
house to intimidate the judges, and the judges proved as base as 
the accusers themselves. They professed, indeed, to fear not so 
much for their own lives as for the public tranquillity, but they 
pronounced him guilty. One of them had even the effrontery to 
acknowledge his innocence to Favras himself, and to affirm that 
his life was a necessary sacrifice to the public peace. 

No event since the attack on Versailles had caused Marie An- 
toinette equal anguish. It showed that attachment to the king 
and herself was in itself regarded as an inexpiable crime, and her 
distress was greatly augmented when, on the Sunday following 
the execution of the marquis, some of his friends brought to the 
table where, as usual, she was dining in public with the king, the 
widowed marchioness and her orphaned son in deep mourning, 
and presented them to their majesties. Their introducers evi- 
dently expected that the king, or at least the queen, by the dis- 
tinguished reception which she would accord to them, would 
mark their sense of the merits of their late husband and father, 
and of the indignity of the sentence under which he had suffered. 

Marie Antoinette was sadly embarrassed and distressed : she 
was taken wholly by surprise ; and it happened by a cruel per- 
verseness of fortune that Santerre, the brewer, whose ruffianly and 
ferocious enmity to the whole royal family, and especially to her- 
self, had been conspicuous throughout the worst outrages of the 
past summer and autumn, was on the same day on duty at the 
palace as commander of one of the battalions of the Parisian 



298 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

Guard, and was standing behind her chair when the marchioness 
and her son were introduced. Her embarrassment and all her 
feelings on the occasion were described by herself in the course 
of the afternoon to Madame Campan. 

After the dinner was over, she went up to her attendant's 
room, saying that it was a relief to find herself where she could 
weep at her ease; for weep she must at the folly of the ultra- 
Royalists. " We can not but be destroyed," she continued, " when 
we are attacked by people who unite every kind of talent to ev- 
ery kind of wickedness ; and when we are defended by folks who 
are indeed very estimable, but who have no just notion of our po- 
sition. They have now compromised me with both parties, in 
their presenting to me the widow and son of Favras. If I had 
been free to do as I would, I should have taken the child of a 
man who had just been sacrificed for us, and have placed him at 
table between the king and myself ; but surrounded as I was by 
the very murderers who had caused his father's death, I could not 
venture even to bestow a glance upon him. Yet the Royalists will 
blame me for not having seemed to be interested in the poor 
child ; while the Revolutionists will be furious, thinking that 
those who presented him to me knew that it would please me." 
And all that she could venture to do she did. She knew that the 
marchioness was very poor, and she sent her by a trusty agent a 
few hundred louis, and with it a kind message, assuring the un- 
happy widow that she would always watch over her and her son's 
interests. 



THE KING ADDBESSES TEE ASSEMBLY. 299 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

The King accepts the Constitution so far as it has been settled. — The Queen 
makes a Speech to the Deputies. — She is well received at the Theatre. — 
Negotiations with Mirabeau. — The Queen's Views of the Position of Affairs. 
— The Jacobin Club denounces Mirabeau. — Deputation of Anacharsis 
Clootz. — Demolition of the Statue of Louis XIV. — Abolition of Titles of 
Honor. — The Queen admits Mirabeau to an Audience. — His Admiration of 
her Courage and Talents. — Anniversary of the Capture of the Bastile. — 
Fete of the Champ de Mars. — Presence of Mind of the Queen. 

What was probably as painful to Marie Antoinette as these oc- 
currences themselves was the apathy with which the king regard- 
ed them. The English traveler to whose journal we have more 
than once referred, and who, in the first week of the year, saw the 
royal pair walking in the gardens of the Tuileries, remarked that 
though the queen did not appear in good health, but showed mel- 
ancholy and anxiety in her face, the king, on the other hand, " was 
as plump as ease could render him."* And in the course of Feb- 
ruary, in spite of all her remonstrances, Necker succeeded in per- 
suading him to go down to the Assembly, and to address the mem- 
bers in a long speech, in which, though some of his expressions 
were clearly intended as a reproof of the Assembly itself for the 
precipitation and violence of some of its measures, he nevertheless 
declared his cordial assent to the new Constitution, so far as they 
had yet settled it, and promised to co-operate in a spirit of affection 
and confidence in the labors which still remained to be achieved. 

The greater part of the speech is believed to have been his own 
composition ; and it is characteristic of the fidelity with which, on 
every occasion, Marie Antoinette adhered to her rule of strength- 
ening her husband's position by her own cordial and conspicuous 
support, that, strongly as she had objected to the step before it 
was taken, now that it was decided on, she professed a decided 
approval of it ; and when a deputation of the Assembly, which 
had been appointed to escort the king with honor back to the pal- 
ace, solicited an audience of herself to pay their respects, she as- 
sured the deputies that " she partook of all the sentiments of the 

* Arthur Young's "Journal," January 4th, 1*790, p. 251. 



300 LIFE OP MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

king ; that she united with all her heart and mind in the measure 
which his love for his people had just dictated to him." And then, 
bringing the dauphin forward, she added: "Behold my son. I 
shall unceasingly speak to him of the virtues of his most excel- 
lent father. I shall teach him from the earliest age to cherish 
public liberty, and I hope that he will be its firmest bulwark." 

For a moment the step seemed to have succeeded, though the 
proofs of its success were still more strongly proofs of the utter 
want of sense that marked all the proceedings of the Assembly. 
As Louis had expressed his assent to the Constitution so far as it 
was settled, it was proposed, as a fitting compliment to him, that 
the Assembly and the whole body of the citizens of Paris should 
take an oath of fidelity to the Constitution without any such res- 
ervation. But in the course of the next few weeks the Assembly 
showed how little his reproof of its former precipitation and vio- 
lence had been heeded, since, among the first measures with which 
it proceeded to the completion of the Constitution, one deprived 
him of the right of deciding on peace and war, a power which all 
wise statesmen regard as inseparable from the executive govern- 
ment ; another extinguished the rights of primogeniture ; and a 
third confiscated all the property of the monastic establishments. 

However, those who took the lead in the management of affairs 
(for Necker and the ministers had long ceased to exert the slight- 
est authority) were blinded by their own fury to the absurdity 
and inconsistency of their conduct. Their exultation was un- 
bounded, and, adhering to the line of conduct which she had 
marked out for herself, Marie Antoinette now yielded to their en- 
treaties that she would show herself to the citizens at the theatre. 
Even in the days of her earliest popularity she had never met a 
more enthusiastic reception. The greater part of the house rose 
at her entrance, clapping their hands and cheering, and the disloy- 
alty of a few malcontents only made her triumph more conspic- 
uous, so roughly were they treated by the rest of the audience. 
Marie Antoinette was herself touched at the cordiality with which 
she was greeted,and saw in it another proof that " the people and 
citizens were good at heart if left to themselves ; but," she added 
to the Princess de Lambelle, to whom she described the scene, "all 
this enthusiasm is but a gleam of light, a cry of conscience which 
weakness will soon stifle."* 

* Feuillet de Conches, i., p. 315. 



OVERTURES OF MIR ABE AU. 301 

It is probably doing no injustice to Mirabeau to believe that 
the crimes which had made the greatest impression on the queen 
were not the events which affected him the most strongly. But 
he was not only a statesman in intellect, but an aristocrat in every 
feeling of his heart. No man was fonder of referring to his illus- 
trious ancestors ; or of claiming kindred with men of old renown, 
such as the Admiral de Coligny, of whom he more than once 
boasted in the Assembly as his cousin ; and each blow dealt at 
the consideration of the Nobles was an additional incentive to 
him to seek to arrest the progress of a revolution which had al- 
ready gone far beyond his wishes or his expectations. And as he 
was always energetic in the pursuit of his plans, he had, by some 
means or other, in spite of the discouragement derived from 
the language and conduct of the Count de Provence, contrived 
to get information of his willingness to enlist in the Koyalist 
party conveyed to the queen. The Count de la Marck, who was 
still his chief confidant, was at Brussels at the beginning of the 
spring, when he received a letter from Mercy, begging him to re- 
turn without delay to Paris. He lost no time in obeying the 
summons, when he learned, to his great delight, though his pleas- 
ure was alloyed by some misgiving, that the king and queen had 
resolved to avail themselves of Mirabeau's services, and that he 
himself was selected as the intermediate agent in the negotiation. 
La Marck's misgiving,* as he frankly told the embassador at the 
outset, was caused by the fear that Mirabeau had done more harm 
than he could repair; but he gladly undertook the commission, 
though its difficulty was increased by a stipulation which showed 
at once the weakness of the king, and the extraordinary difficul- 
ties which it placed in the way of his friends. The count was 
especially warned to keep all that was passing a secret from 
Necker. He was startled, as he well might be, at such an injunc- 
tion. But he did not think it became his position to start a dif- 
ficulty; and, as he was fully impressed with the importance of 
not losing time, the negotiation proceeded rapidly. He intro- 
duced Mirabeau to Mercy, and he himself was admitted to an in- 
terview with the queen, when he learned that her greatest objec- 
tions to accepting Mirabeau's services were of a personal nature, 
founded partly on the general badness of his character, partly on 

*"Le mal deja fait est bien grave, et je doute que Mirabeau lui-mSme 
puisse reparer celui qu'on lui a laisse faire." — Mirabeau et La Marck, i., p. 100. 



302 LIFE OP MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

the share he had borne in the events of the 5th and 6th of Oc- 
tober. By the count's own account, he went rather beyond the 
truth in his endeavors to exculpate his friend on this point ; and 
he probably deceived himself when he believed that he had con- 
vinced the queen of his innocence. But both she and Louis, who 
was present at a part of the interview, had evidently made up 
their minds to forget the past, if they could trust his promises for 
the future. And the interview ended in the further conduct of 
the necessary arrangements being left by Louis to the queen. 

In a subsequent conversation with the count, she explained her 
own views of the existing situation of affairs, describing them, 
indeed, according to her custom, as the ideas of the king, in a 
manner which shows how much she was willing that the king 
should abate of his old prerogatives, provided only that the con- 
cessions were made voluntarily by himself, and not imposed by 
violent and illegal resolutions of the Assembly. Mirabeau had 
drawn up an elaborate memorial for the consideration of the 
king, in which he pointed out in general terms his sense of the 
state of " utter anarchy " into which France had fallen, his shame 
and indignation at feeling " that he himself had contributed to 
bring affairs into such a bad state," and his " profound conviction 
of the necessity, in the interests of the whole nation, of re-estab- 
lishing the legitimate authority of the king."* And Marie An- 
toinette, commenting on this expression, assured La Marck that 
" the king had no desire to recover the full extent of the authori- 
ty which he had formerly possessed ; and that he was far from 
thinking it necessary for his own personal happiness any more 
than for the welfare of his people."f And it seemed to the 
count that she placed unlimited confidence in Mirabeau's ability 
to re-establish her husband's power on a sufficient and satisfac- 
tory basis ; so full was her conversation, during the latter part of 
the interview, of the good which she expected to be again able 
to do, and of the warm affection with which she regarded the 
people. 

The benefits of this new alliance were not to be all on one side. 
Mirabeau was overwhelmed with debt ; and though his father had 
died in the preceding summer, he had not yet entered into his 
inheritance, but was in a state little short of absolute destitution. 
From this condition he was to be relieved, and the arrangements 

* La Marck et Mirabeau, i., p. 315. f Ibid.^ p. 111. 



NEGOTIATIONS WITH MISABEAU. 303 

for the discharge of his debts, and the securing to him the enjoy- 
ment of a sufficient though by no means excessive income, were 
intrusted to Marie Antoinette by the king, and by her to her almon- 
er, M. de Fontanges, who, when Lomenie de Brienne was promoted 
to the archbishopric of Sens, had succeeded him at Toulouse. 
The archbishop, who was sincerely devoted to his royal mistress, 
carried out the necessary arrangements with great skill, but they 
could not be managed with such secrecy as entirely to escape no- 
tice. Among the clubs which had been set on foot at the begin- 
ning of the previous year the most violent had been that known 
as the Breton Club, from being founded by some of the deputies 
from the great province of Brittany ; but when the court removed 
to Paris, and the Assembly was established in a large building 
close to the garden of the Tuileries, the Bretons obtained the use 
of an apartment in an old convent of Dominican or Jacobin friars 
(as they were called), the same which two centuries before had 
been the council-room of the League, and they changed their own 
designation also, and called themselves the Jacobins ; and, cancel- 
ing the rule which limited the right of membership to deputies, 
they now admitted every one who, by application for election, 
avowed his adherence to their principles. Their leaders at this 
time were Barnave ; a young noble named Alexander Lameth, 
whose mother, having been left in necessitous circumstances, owed 
to the bounty of the king and queen the means of educating her 
children, a benefit which they repaid with the most unremitting 
hostility to the whole royal family ; and a lawyer named Duport. 
Mirabeau was in the habit of ridiculing them as the triumvirate ; 
but they were crafty and unscrupulous men, skillful in procuring 
information ; and, having obtained intelligence of his negotiations 
with the court, they retaliated on him by hiring pamphleteers and 
journalists to attack him, and narratives of the treason of the 
Count de Mirabeau were hawked about the streets. 

To apply such language to the adherence of a French noble to 
the crown was the most open avowal of disloyalty on which the 
revolutionary party had yet ventured ; and in the next four weeks 
it received a practical development in a series of measures, some 
of which were so ridiculous as only to deserve notice from the 
additional evidence which they furnished of the extreme folly of 
those who now had the lead in the Assembly, and of the strange 
excitement to which the whole nation, or at least the whole pop- 
ulation of Paris, must have been wrought up before they could 



304 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

mistake their acts for those of sagacity or patriotism ; but others 
of which, though not less unwise, were of greater importance as 
being irrevocable steps in the downward course of destruction 
along which the whole country was being dragged. 

The leaders of the revolutionary party had already selected two 
days in the past year as especially memorable for the triumphs 
won over the crown : one was the 20th of June, on which, in the 
Tennis Court at Versailles, the members of the Assembly had 
bound themselves to effect the regeneration of the kingdom ; the 
other the 14th of July, on which, as they boasted, they had for- 
ever established freedom by the destruction of the Bastile ; and 
they determined this year to celebrate both these anniversaries in 
a becoming manner. Accordingly, on the 20th of June, a crack- 
brained member of the Jacobin Club, a Prussian of noble birth, 
named Clootz, who, to show his affinity with the philosophers of 
old, had assumed the name of Anacharsis, hired a band of va- 
grants and idlers, and, dressing them up in a variety of costumes 
to represent Arabs, red Indians, Turks, Chinese, Laplanders, and 
other tribes, savage and civilized, led them into the Assembly as a 
deputation from all the nations of the earth to announce the res- 
urrection of the whole world from slavery ; and demanded per- 
mission for them to attend the festival of the ensuing month, that 
each, on behalf of his country, might give in his adhesion to the 
principles of liberty as expounded by the Assembly. The pres- 
ident of the day replied with an oration thanking M. Clootz for 
the honor done to France by such an embassy ; and Alexander 
Lameth followed up the president's harangue by fresh praises of 
the deputation as holy pilgrims who had thrown off the shackles 
of superstition. Nor was he content with a barren panegyric. 
He had devised an appropriate sacrifice with which to commem- 
orate such exalted virtue. In the finest square of the city, the 
Place des Victoires, the Duke de la Feuillade had erected a statue 
of Louis XIV. to celebrate his royal master's triumphs, the ped- 
estal of which was decorated with allegorical representations of 
the nations which had been conquered by the French marshals. 
It was generally regarded as the finest work of art in the city, and 
as such it had long been an object of admiration and pride to the 
citizens. But M. Lameth, in his new-born enthusiasm, regarded 
it with other eyes, and closed his speech by proposing that, as 
monuments of despotism and flattery could not fail to be shock- 
ing to so enlightened a body, the Assembly should order its in- 



ABOLITION OF TITLES. 305 

stant demolition. His proposal was received with enthusiastic 
cheers, and the noble monument was instantly overthrown in a fit 
of blind fury more resembling the orgies of drunken Bacchanals, 
or the thirst for desolation which had animated the Goths and 
Huns, than the conduct of the chosen legislators of a polite and 
accomplished people. 

But even this was not all. The insult to the memory of a king 
who, little as he deserved it, had a century before been the ob- 
ject of the unanimous admiration of his subjects, was but a pre- 
lude to other resolutions of far greater moment, as giving an in- 
delible character to the future of the nation. A deputy, M. Lam- 
bel, whose very name was previously unknown to the majority of 
his colleagues, rose and made a speech of three lines, as if the 
proposal which it contained only required to be mentioned to 
command instant and universal assent. " This day," said he, " is 
the tomb of vanity. I demand the suppression of the titles of 
duke, count, marquis, viscount, baron, and knight." La Fayette 
and Alexander Lameth's brother, Charles, supported the demand 
with almost equal brevity ; a representative of one of the most 
ancient families in the kingdom, the Viscount Matthieu de Mont- 
morency moved a prohibition of the use of armorial bearings ; an- 
other noble, M. de St. Targeau, proposed that the use of names de- 
rived from the estates of the owners should be abolished. Every 
proposal was carried by acclamation. Louder and louder cheers 
followed each suggestion of a new abolition ; a member who vent- 
ured to propose an amendment to one proposal was hooted down ; 
and in little more than an hour the whole series of resolutions, 
which struck at once at the recollections and glories of the 
past and at the dignity of the future, was made the law of the 
land. 

Every one of these attacks on the nobles was a fresh provoca- 
tion to Mirabeau, and increased his eagerness to complete his rec- 
onciliation with the crown. He pronounced the abolition of ti- 
tles a torch to kindle civil war, and pressed more earnestly than 
ever for an interview with the queen, in which he might both 
learn her views and explain his own. Marie Antoinette had fore- 
seen that she should be forced to admit him to her presence, but 
there was nothing to which she felt a stronger repugnance. His 
profligate character excited a feeling of perfect disgust in her 
mind ; but for the public good she overcame it, and, having in 
the course of June removed to St. Cloud for change of air, on 

20 



306 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

the 3d of July she, accompanied by the king, received him in 
the garden of that palace. The account which she sent her broth- 
er of the interview shows with what a mixture of feelings she had 
been agitated. She speaks of herself as " shivering with horror " 
as the moment drew near, and can not bring herself to describe 
him except as a " monster," though she admits that his language 
speedily removed her agitation, which, when he was first present- 
ed to her, had nearly made her ill. " He seemed to be actuated 
by entire good faith, and to be altogether devoted to the king ; 
and Louis was highly pleased with him, so that they now thought 
every thing was safe."* 

She, on her part, had made an equally favorable impression on 
him. She had adroitly flattered his high opinion of himself by 
saying that " if she had been speaking to persons of a different 
class and character she should have felt the necessity of being 
guarded in her language, but that in dealing with a Mirabeau 
there could be no need of such caution ;" and he told his confi- 
dant. La Marck, that till he knew " the soul and thoughts of the 
daughter of Maria Teresa, and learned how fully he could reckon 
on that august ally, iie had seen nothing of the court but its 
weakness ; but now confidence had raised his courage, and grati- 
tude had made the prosecution of his principles a duty ;"f and in 
some subsequent letters he speaks of every thing as depending on 
the queen, and ■describes in brief but forcible language his ap- 
preciation of the dangers which surrounded her, and of the mag- 
nanimous courage with which he sees that she is prepared to con- 
front them. " The king," he says, " has but one man about him, 
and that is his wife. There is no safety for her but in the re- 
establishment of the royal authority. I love to believe that she 
would not desire to preserve life without the crown. What I am 
quite certain of is, that she will not preserve her life unless she 
preserves her crown." 

In his interview with her, as she reported it to the emperor, he 
had recommended, as the first step to be adopted by the king and 
herself, a departure from Paris ; and, in reference to that plan, 
which he at all times regarded as the foundation of every other, 
he tells La Marck : " The moment will soon come when it will be 
necessary to try what can be done by a woman and a child on 
horseback. For her it is but the adoption of an hereditary mode 

* Feuillet de Conches, i., p. 345. f Mirabeau et La Marck, i., p. 125. 



CEREMONY IN THE CHAMP BE MARS. 307 

of action.* But she must be prepared for it, and must not sup- 
pose that one can extricate one's self from an extraordinary crisis 
by mere chance or by the combinations of an ordinary man." 

The hopes with which the acquisition of such an ally inspired 
the queen at this time nerved her to bear her part in the festival 
with which the Assembly had decided on celebrating the demoli- 
tion of the Bastile. The arrangements for it were of a gigantic 
character. Round the sides of the Champ de Mars a vast em- 
bankment was raised, so as to give the plain the appearance of 
an amphitheatre, and to afford accommodation to three hundred 
thousand spectators. At the entrance a magnificent arch of tri- 
umph was erected. The centre was occupied by a grand altar ; 
and on one side a gorgeous pavilion was appropriated to the king, 
his family, and retinue, the members of the Assembly, and the 
municipal magistrates. They were all to be performers in the 
grand ceremony which was to be the distinguishing feature of the 
day. The Constitution was scarcely more complete than it had 
been when Louis signified his acceptance of it five months before ; 
but now, not only were he, the deputies, and municipal authorities 
of Paris to swear to its maintenance, but the same oath was to be 
taken by the National Guard, and by a deputation from every reg- 
iment in the army ; and it was to bind the soldiers throughout the 
kingdom to the new order of things that the ceremony was orig- 
inally designed, f 

As a spectacle few have been more successful, and perhaps 
none has ever been so imposing. Before midnight on the 13tli 
of July, the whole of the vast amphitheatre was filled with a 
dense crowd, in its gayest holiday attire — a marvelous and mag- 
nificent sight from its mere nixmbers ; and early the next morn- 
ing the heads of the procession began to defile under the arch at 
the entrance of the plain — La Fayette, at the head of the National 
Guard, leading the way. It was a curious proof of the king's 
weakness, and of the tenacity with which he clung to his policy 

* He alludes to Maria Teresa's appearance at Presburg at the beginning of 
the Silesian war. 

f "II lui \k I'Assemblee] importait de faire une epreuve sur toutes les 
Gardes Nationales de France, d'animer ce grand corps dont tous les membres 

etaient encore epars et incoherents, de leur donner une meme impulsion 

Enfin, de faire sous les yeux de I'Europe une imposante revue des forces 
qu'elle pourrait un jour opposer a des rois inquiets ou courrouces." — Lacre- 
TELLE, vii., p. 359. 



308 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

of conciliation, that, in spite of his knowledge of the general's 
bitter animosity to his authority and to himself, and of his recent 
vote for the suppression of all titles of honor, Louis had offered 
him the sword of the Constable of France, a dignity which had 
been disused for many years ; and it was an equally striking evi- 
dence of La Fayette's inveterate disloyalty that, gratifying as the 
succession to Duguesclin and Montmorency would have been to 
his vanity, he nevertheless refused the honor, and contented him- 
self with the dignity which the enrollment of the detachments 
from the different departments under his banner conferred on 
him, by giving him the appearance of being the commander-in- 
chief of the National Guard throughout the kingdom. The Na- 
tional Guard was followed by regiment after regiment, and depu- 
tation after deputation, of the regular army ; and, to show the 
subordination to the law which they were expected to acknowl- 
edge for the future, their swords were all sheathed, while the dep- 
uties, the municipal magistrates, and other peaceful citizens who 
bore a part in the procession had their swords drawn. Sailors 
from the fleet, magistrates and deputations from every depart- 
ment, and from every city or town of importance in the kingdom, 
followed ; and after them came two hundred priests, with Talley- 
rand, Bishop of Autun, in his episcopal vestments at their head, 
their white robes somewhat uncanonically decorated with tricolor 
ribbons, who passed on into the centre of the plain and ranged 
themselves on the steps of the altar. So vast was the procession 
that it was half-past three in the afternoon before the detachment 
of Eoyal Guards which closed it took up their position. 

When at last all were in their places, Louis, accompanied by 
the queen and other members of his family, entered the royal 
pavilion. He was known by sight to the deputations from the 
most distant provinces, for he had reviewed them in a body the 
day before, when several of them had been separately presented 
to him, toward whom he had for once laid aside his habitual re- 
serve, assuring them of his fatherly regard for all his subjects 
with warmth and manifest sincerity. The queen, too, as she al- 
ways did, had made a most favorable impression on those mem- 
bers whom she had seen by her judicious and cordial affability. 
Louis wore no robes, but only the ordinary dress of a French noble. 
Marie Antoinette was in full evening costume, and her hair was 
dressed with a plume of tricolor feathers. Yet even on this day, 
which was intended to be one of universal joy and friendliness,, 



ACCEPTANCE OF THE CONSTITUTION. 309 

evil signs were not wanting to show tow powerful were the ene- 
mies of both, king and queen ; for no seat whatever had been 
provided for her, while by the side of that constructed for the 
king another on very nearly the same level had been placed for 
the President of the Assembly. 

But these refinements of discourtesy were lost on the specta- 
tors. They cheered the royal pair joyously the moment that 
they appeared. Before the shouts had died away, Bishop Talley- 
rand began the service of the mass ; and, on its termination, ad- 
ministered the oath " of fidelity to the nation, the law, the king, 
and the Constitution as decreed by the Assembly and accepted 
by the king." La Fayette took the oath first in the name of the 
army. Talleyrand followed on behalf of the clergy. Bailly came 
next, as the representative of the citizens of Paris. It was a 
stormy day ; and when the moment arrived for the king to set 
the seal to the universal acceptance of the constitution by swear- 
ing to exert all his own power for its maintenance, the rain came 
down so heavily as to render it impossible for him to leave the 
shelter of his own pavilion. As it happened, the momentary dis- 
appointment gave a greater effect to his act. With more than 
usual presence of mind, he advanced to the front of the pavilion, 
so as to be seen by the whole of the assembled multitude, and 
took the oath with a loud voice and perfect dignity of manner. 
As he resumed his seat, the rain cleared away, the sun burst 
through the clouds ; and the queen, as if by a sudden inspiration, 
brought forward the little dauphin, and, lifting him up in her 
arms, showed him to the people. Those whom the king's voice 
could not reach saw the graceful action ; and from every side of 
the plain one universal acclamation burst forth, which seemed to 
bear out Marie Antoinette's favorite assertion that the people were 
good at heart, and that it was not without great perseverance in 
artifice and malignity that they could be excited to disloyalty and 
treascm. 



310 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Great Tumults in the Provinces. — Mutiny in the Marquis de Bouille's Army. — 
Disorder of the Assembly. — Difficulty of managing Mirabeau. — Mercy is re- 
moved to The Hague. — Marie Antoinette sees constant Changes in the As- 
pect of Affairs. — Marat denounces Her. — Attempts are made to assassinate 
Her. — Resignation of Mirabeau. — Misconduct of the Emigrant Princes. 

But men less blinded by the feverisb excitement of revolution- 
ary enthusiasm would have seen but little in the state of France 
at this time to regard as matter for exultation. Many of the re- 
cent measures of the Assembly, and especially the extinction of 
the old provinces, had created great discontent in the rural dis- 
tricts. Formidable riots had broken out in many quarters, es- 
pecially in the great southern cities, in some of which the mob 
had rivaled the worst excesses of its Parisian brethren ; massacring 
the magistrates, tearing their bodies into pieces, and terrifying the 
peaceable inhabitants by processions, in which the mangled re- 
mains of their victims formed the most conspicuous feature. At 
Brest and at Toulon the sailors showed that they fully shared the 
general dissatisfaction ; while in the army a formidable mutiny 
broke out among the troops which were under the command of 
the Marquis de Bouille, in Lorraine. That, indeed, had a differ- 
ent object, since it had been excited by Jacobin emissaries, who 
were aware that the marquis, the soldier who, of the whole French 
army at that time, enjoyed the highest reputation, was firmly at- 
tached to the king ; though he was not one of the nobles who 
had opposed all reform, nor had he hesitated to follow his royal 
master's example and to declare his acceptance of the new Con- 
stitution. Fortunately he had subalterns worthy of him, and 
faithful to their oaths ; and as he was a man of great promptitude 
and decision, he, with their aid, quelled the mutiny, though not 
without a sanguinary conflict, in which he himself lost above four 
hundred men, while the loss which he inflicted on the mutineers 
was far heavier. But he had set a noble example, and had given 
an undeniable proof of the possibility of quelling the most formi- 
dable tumults ; and it may be said that his quarters were the only 



DfSORDEBS IN THE ASSEMBLY. 311 

spot in all France which was not wholly given up to anarchy 
and disorder. 

For even the Assembly itself was a prey to tumult and vio- 
lence. From the time of its assuming that title admission had 
been given to every one who could force his way into the cham- 
ber, whether he was a member or not ; nor was any order pre- 
served among those who thus obtained admission ; but they were 
allowed to express their opinion of every speaker and of every 
speech by friendly or unfriendly clamor : a practice which, as may 
well be supposed, materially influenced many votes. And pres- 
ently attendance for that purpose became a trade ; some of the 
most violent deputies hiring a regularly appointed troop to take 
their station in the galleries, and paying them daily wages to ap- 
plaud or hiss in accordance with the signs which they themselves 
made from the body of the hall.* And if the populace was thus 
the master of the Assembly while at Versailles, this was far more 
the case after its removal to Paris, where the number of the idle 
portion of the population furnished the Jacobins with far greater 
means of intimidating their adversaries. 

It was remarkable that La Marck himself, as has been already 
intimated, did not fully share the hopes which the king and queen 
founded on the adhesion of Mirabeau. It was not only that on 
one point he had sounder views than Mirabeau himself — doubting, 
as he did, whether the mischief which his vehement friend had 
formerly done could now be undone by the same person, merely 
because he had changed his mind — but he also felt doubts of 
Mirabeau's steadiness in his new path, and feared lest eagerness 
for popularity, or an innate levity of disposition, might still lead 
him astray. As he described him in a letter to Mercy, " he was 
sometimes very great and sometimes very little ; he could be very 
useful, and he could be very mischievous : in a word, he was often 
above, and sometimes- greatly below, any other man." At anoth- 
er time he speaks of him as " by turns imprudent through excess 
of confidence, and lukewarm from distrust ;" and this estimate of 

* We learn from Dr. Moore that there was a leader with five subaltern of- 
ficers and one hundred and fifty rank and file in each gallery of the chamber ; 
that the wages of the latter were from two to three francs a day ; the subaltern 
had ten francs, the leaders fifty. The entire expense was about a thousand 
francs a day, a sum which strengthens the suspicion that the pay-master (orig- 
inally, at least) was the Due d'Orleans. — Dr. Moore's View of the Causes, etc., 
'if the French Revolution, i., p. 425. 



312 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

the great demagogue, whicli was not very incorrect, shows, too, 
how high an opinion La Marck had formed of the queen's ability 
and force of character, for he looks to her " to put a curb on his 
inconstancy,"* trusting for that result not so much to her power 
of fascination as to her clearness of view and resolution. 

And she herself was never so misled by her high estimate of 
Mirabeau's abilities and influence as to think his judgment uner- 
ring. On the contrary, her comment to Mercy on one of the 
earliest letters which he addressed to the king was that it was 
"full of madness from one end to the other," and she asked 
"how he, or any one else, could expect that at such a moment 
the king and she could be induced to provoke a civil war?" al- 
luding, apparently, to his urgent advice that the royal family 
should leave Paris, a step of the necessity for which she was not 
yet convinced. Her hope evidently was that he would bring for- 
ward some motions in the Assembly which might at least arrest 
the progress of mischief, and perhaps even pave the way for the 
repair of some of the evil already done. 

On one point she partly agreed with him, but not wholly. He 
insisted on the necessity of dismissing the ministers; but she, 
though thinking them, both as a body and individually, unequal 
to the crisis, saw great diflBculty in replacing them, since the vote 
of the preceding winter forbade the king to select their successors 
from the members of the Assembly ;f and she feared also lest, if 
he should dismiss them, the Assembly would carry out a plan 
which, as it seemed to her, it already showed great inclination to 
adopt, of managing every thing by means of committees, and pre- 
venting the appointment of any new administration. Her view 
of the situation, and of the king's and her position, varied from 
time to time, as indeed their circumstances and the views of the 
Assembly appeared to alter. In August she is in great distress, 
caused by a decision of the emperor to remove Mercy to the Hague, 
" I am," she writes to the embassador, " in despair at your de- 
parture, especially at a moment when affairs are becoming every 
day more embarrassing and more painful, and when I have there- 
fore the greater need of an attachment as sincere and enlightened 
as yours. But I feel that all the powers, under different pretexts, 
will withdraw their ministers one after another. It is impossible 
to leave them incessantly exposed to this disorder and license; 

* Mirabeau et La Marck, ii., p. 47. f Feuillet de Conches, i., p, 352. 



JEALOUSY OF AUSTRIAN INFLVENCE. 313 

but such is my destiny, and I am forced to endure the horror of 
it to the very end."* But a fortnight later she tells Madame de 
Polignac that " for some days things have been wearing a better 
complexion. She can not feel very sanguine, the mischievous 
folks having such an interest in perverting every thing, and in 
hindering every thing which is reasonable, and such means of do- 
ing so ; but at the moment the number of ill-intentioned people 
is diminished, or at least the right-thinking of all classes and of 

all ranks are more united You may depend upon it," she 

adds, " that misfortunes have not diminished my resolution or my 
courage : I shall not lose any of that ; they will only give me more 
prudence."f Indeed, her own strength of mind, fortitude, and 
benevolence were the only things in France which were not con- 
stantly changing at this time ; and she derived one lesson from 
the continued vicissitudes to which she was exposed, which, if 
partly grievous, was also in part full of comfort and encourage- 
ment to so warm a heart. " It is in moments such as these that 
one learns to know men, and to see who are truly attached to 
one, and who are not. I gain every day fresh experiences in this 
point ; sometimes cruel, sometimes pleasant ; for I am continual- 
ly finding that some people are truly and sincerely attached to us, 
to whom I never gave a thought." 

Another of her old vexations was revived in the renewed jeal- 
ousy of Austrian influence with which the Jacobin leaders at this 
time inspired the mob, and which was so great that, Avhen in the 
autumn Leopold sent the yoi;ng Prince de Lichtenstein as his en- 
voy to notify his accession, Marie Antoinette could only venture 
to give him a single audience ; and, greatly as she enjoyed the 
opportunity of gathering from him news of Vienna and of the 
old friends of the childhood of whom she still cherished an affec- 
tionate recollection, she was yet forced to dismiss him after a few 
minutes' conversation, and to beg him to accelerate his departure 
from Paris, lest even that short interview should be made a pre- 
text for fresh calumnies. " The kindest thing that any Austrian 
of mark could do for her," she told her brother, *' was to keep 
away from Paris at present."^ She would gladly have seen the 
Assembly interest itself a little in the politics of the empire, where 
Leopold's own situation was full of difficulties; but the French 



* Marie Antoinette to Mercy, Feuillet de Conches, i., p. 355. 

f Ibid., i., p. 365. X Arneth, p. 140. 



314 LIFE OF 3{ARIE ANTOINETTE. 

had not yet come to consider themselves as justified in interfering 
in the internal government of other countries. As she describes 
their feelings to the emperor, " They feel their own individual 
troubles, but those of their neighbors do not yet affect them ; and 
the names of Liberty and Despotism are so deeply engraved in 
their heads, even though they do not clearly define them, that 
they are everlastingly passing from the love of the former to the 
dread of the latter;" and then she adds a sketch of her own ideas 
and expectations, and of the objects which she conceives it her 
duty to keep in view, in which it is affecting to see that her utter 
despair of any future happiness for the king and herself in no de- 
gree weakens her desire to promote the happiness of the very peo- 
ple who have caused her suffering. " Our task is to watch skill- 
fully for the moment when men's heads have returned to proper 
ideas sufficiently to make them enjoy a reasonable and honest free- 
dom, such as the king has himself always desired for the happi- 
ness of his people ; but far from that license and anarchy which 
have precipitated the fairest of kingdoms into all possible mis- 
eries. Our health continues good, but it would be better if we 
could only perceive the least gleam of happiness around us ; as for 
ourselves, that is at an end forever, happen what will. I know that 
it is the duty of a king to suffer for others ; and it is one which 
we are discharging thoroughly." 

She had indeed at this time sufferings to which it is character- 
istic of her undaunted courage that she never makes the slightest 
allusion in her letters. Of all the Jacobin party, one of the most 
blood-thirsty was a wretch named Marat.* At the very outset of 
the Revolution he had established a newspaper to which he gave 
the name of The Peopled Friend., and the staple topic of which 
was the desirableness of bloodshed and massacre. He had been 
exasperated at the receptions given to the royal family at the fes- 
tival of July ; and for some weeks afterward his efforts were di- 
rected to inflame the populace to a new riot, in which the king 
and queen should be dragged into Paris from St. Cloud, as in 
1789 they had been dragged in from Versailles, and which should 
end in the murder of the queen, the ministers, and several hun- 
dreds of other innocent persons ; and his denunciations very near- 



* It is remarkable that he, like one or two of the Girondin party, belonged 
by birth to the Huguenot persuasion, and Marat had studied medicine at 
Edinburo;h. 



ATTEMPTS AT HER ASSASSINATION. 315 

ly bore a part of their intended fruit. The royal family had hard- 
ly returned to St. Cloud, when a man named Rotondo was appre- 
hended in the inner garden, who confessed that he had made his 
way into it with the express design of assassinating Marie An- 
toinette, a design which was only balked by the fortunate acci- 
dent of a heavy shower which prevented her from leaving the 
house ; and a week or two afterward a second plot was discov- 
ered, the contrivers of which designed to poison her. Her attend- 
ants were greatly alarmed ; and her physician furnished Madame 
Campan with an antidote for such poisons as seemed most like- 
ly to be employed. But Marie Antoinette herself cared little for 
such precautions. Assassination was not the end which she an- 
ticipated. On one occasion, when she found Madame Campan 
changing some powdered sugar which, it was suspected, might 
have been tampered with, she thanked her, and praised M. Vicq- 
d'Azyr, the physician by whose instructions Madame Campan was 
acting, but told her that she was giving herself needless trouble. 
" Depend upon it," she added, " they will not employ a grain of 
poison against me. The Brinvilliers* do not belong to this age ; 
people now use calumny, which is much more effectual for killing 
people ; and it is by calumny that they will work my destruc- 
tion. f But even thus, if my death only secures the throne to my 
son, I shall willingly die." 

One of the measures which Mirabeau strongly urged, and as 
to which Marie Antoinette hesitated, balancing the difficulties 
to which it was not unlikely to give rise against the advantages 
which were more obvious, was arranged without her intervention. 
Necker had but one panacea for all the ills of a defective consti- 
tution or an ill-regulated government — the re-establishment of the 
finances of the country ; and, as public confidence is indispensa- 
ble to national credit, the troubles of the last year had largely in- 
creased the embarrassments of the Treasury. He was also but 
scantily endowed with personal courage. In the denunciations of 
Marat he had not been spared, and by the beginning of Septem- 
ber fear had so predominated over every other feeling in his mind 
that he resolved to quit a country which, as he was not one of her 
sons, seemed to him to have no such claim on his allegiance that 



* The Marquise de Brinvilliers had been executed for poisoning several of 
her own relations in the reign of Louis XIV. 

f Madame de Campan, ch. xvii. ; Chambrier, ii., p. 12. 



316 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE.- 

he should imperil his life for her sake. But in carrying out his 
determination, he exhibited a strange forgetfulness, not only of 
the respect due to his royal master as king, but also of all the or- 
dinary rules of propriety ; for he did not resign his office into 
the hands of the sovereign from whom he had received it, but he 
announced his retirement to the Assembly, sending the president 
of the week a letter in which he attributed his reasons for the step 
partly to his health, which he described as weak, and partly to 
the " mortal anxieties of his wife, as virtuous as she was dear to 
his heart." It was hardly to be wondered at that the members 
present were moved rather to laughter than to sympathy by this 
sentimental effusion. They took no notice of the letter, and 
passed to the order of the day ; and certainly, if it afforded evi- 
dence of his amiable disposition, it supplied proof at least equally 
strong of the weakness of his character, and of his consequent un- 
fitness for any post of responsibility at such a time. 

It was more to his credit that he at the same time placed in 
the treasury a sum of two millions of francs to cover any incor- 
rectness which might be discovered or suspected in his accounts, 
and any loss which might be sustained from the depreciation of 
the paper money lately issued under his administration, though 
not with his approbation. All the rest of his colleagues retired 
at the same time, except the foreign secretary, M. Montmorin. 
They had recently been attacked with great violence in the As- 
sembly by a combination of the most extreme democrats and the 
most extreme Royalists, the latter of whom accused them of hav- 
ing betrayed the royal authority by unworthy accessions. But, 
though, in the division which had taken place they had been sup- 
ported by a considerable majority, they feared a repetition of the 
attack, and resigned their offices ; in some degree undoubtedly 
weakening their royal master by their retirement, since those by 
whom he found himself compelled to replace them had still less of 
his confidence. Two — Duport de Tertre, Keeper of the Seals, and 
Duportail, Minister of War — were creatures of La Fayette, and the 
first mentioned was notoriously unfriendly to the queen. Two oth- 
ers — Lambert, the successor of Necker, and Fleurieu, the Minister 
of Marine — were under the influence of Barnave and the Jacobins. 
The only member of the new ministry who was in the least degree 
acceptable to Louis was M. de Lessart, the Minister of the Interior ; 
but he, though loyal in purpose, was of too moderate talents for 
his appointment to add any real strength to the royal cause. 



POLIVT OF MlliABEAU. 317 

Marie Antoinette, however, paid but little attention to these 
ministerial changes; she regarded them — and her view was not 
unsound — as but the displacement of one set of weak men by 
another set equally weak; and she saw, too, that the Assembly 
had established so complete a mastery over the Government, that 
even men of far greater ability and force of character would have 
been impotent for good. Her whole dependence was on Mira- 
beau ; and his course at this time was so capricious and erratic 
that it often caused her more perplexity and alarm than pleasure 
or confidence. He regarded himself as having a very difficult 
part to play. He could not conceal from himself that he was no 
longer able to lead the Assembly as he had done at first, except 
when he was urging it along a road which it desired to take. In 
spite of one of his most brilliant efforts of eloquence, he had re- 
cently been defeated in an endeavor to preserve to the king the 
right of peace and war; and, to regain his ascendency, he more 
than once in the course of the autumn supported measures to 
which the king and queen had the greatest repugnance, and made 
speeches so inflammatory that even his own friend, La Marck, was 
indignant at his language, and expostulated with him with great 
earnestness. He justified himself by explaining his view* that 
no man in the country could at present bring the people back to 
reasonable notions ; that they could only at this moment be gov- 
erned by flattering their prejudices ; that the king must trust to 
time alone ; and that his own sole prospect of being of use to the 
crown lay in his preservation of his popularity till the favorable 
moment should arrive, even if, to preserve that popularity, it were 
necessary for him at times still to appear a supporter of revolu- 
tionary principles. It is not impossible that the motives which 
he thus described did really influence him ; but it was not strange 
that Marie Antoinette should fail to appreciate such refined sub- 
tlety. She had looked forward to his taking a bold, straightfor- 
ward course in defense of Royalist principles ; and she could hard- 
ly believe in the honesty of a man who for any object whatever 
could seem to disregard or to despise them. Her feelings may 
be shown by some extracts from one of her letters to the emper- 
or written just after one of Mirabeau's most violent outbursts, ap- 



* He said to La Marck, "Aucun homme seul ne sera capable de ramener 
les Fran9ais au bon sens, le temps seul peut retablir I'ordre dans les esprits," 
etc., etc. — Mirabeau et La Marck, i., p. 147. 



318 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

parently his speech in support of a motion that the fleet should 
be ordered to hoist the tricolor flag. 

"October 22d, 1*790. 

" We are again fallen back into chaos and all our old distrust. 
Mirabeau had sent the king some notes, a little violent in lan- 
guage, but well argued, on the necessity of preventing the usurpa- 
tions of the Assembly .... when, on a question concerning the 
fleet, he delivered a speech suited only to a violent demagogue, 
enough to frighten all honest men. Here, again, all our hopes 
from that quarter are overthrown. The king is indignant, and I 
am in despair. He has written to one of his friends, in whom I 
have great confidence, a man of courage and devoted to us, an ex- 
planatory letter, which seems to me neither an explanation nor 
an excuse. The man is a volcano which would set an empire 
on fire ; and we are to trust to him to put out the conflagration 
which is devouring us. He will have a great deal to do before 
we can feel confidence in him again. La Marck defends Mira- 
beau, and maintains that if at times he breaks away, he is still in 

reality faithful to the monarchy The king will not believe 

this. He was greatly irritated yesterday. La Marck says that 
he has no doubt that Mirabeau thought that he was acting well 
in speaking as he did, to throw dust in the eyes of the Assembly, 
and so to obtain greater credit when circumstances still more 
grave should arise. my God ! if we have committed faults, we 
have sadly expiated them."* 

And before the end of the year, the royal cause had fresh diffi- 
culties thrown in its way by the perverse and selfish wronghead- 
edness of the emigrant princes, who were already evincing an in- 
clination to pursue objects of their own, and to disown all obedi- 
ence to the king, on the plea that he was no longer master of his 
policy or of his actions. They showed such open disregard of his 
remonstrances that, in December, as Marie Antoinette told the em- 
peror, Louis had written both to the Count d'Artois and to the 
King of Sardinia (in whose dominions the count was at the time), 
that, if his brothers persisted in their designs, " he should be com- 
pelled to disavow them peremptorily, and summon all his subjects 
who were still faithful to him to return to their obedience. She 
hoped," she said, " that that would make them pause. It seemed 
certain to her that no one but those on the spot, no one but them- 

* Feuillet de Conches, i., p. 3Y6. 



HER LETTER TO LEOPOLD. 319 

selves, could judge what moments and wliat circumstances were 
favorable for action, so as to put an end to their own miseries and 
to those of France. And it will be then," she concludes, " my 
dear brother, that I shall reckon on your friendship, and that I 
shall address myself to you with the confidence with which I am 
inspired by the feelings of your heart, which are well known to 
me, and by the good-will which you have shown us on all occa- 
sions."* 

* Marie Antoinette to Leopold, date December 11th, 1790, Arneth, p. 143. 



320 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

Louis and Marie Antoinette contemplate Foreign Intervention. — The Assem- 
bly passes Laws to subordinate the Church to the Civil Power. — Insolence 
of La Fayette. — Marie Antoinette refuses to quit France by Herself. — The 
Jacobins and La Fayette try to revive the Story of the Necklace. — Marie An- 
toinette with her Family. — Flight from Paris is decided on. — The Queen's 
Preparations and Views. — An Oath to observe the new Ecclesiastical Con- 
stitution is imposed on the Clergy. — The King's Aunts leave France. 

The last sentence of the letter just quoted points to a new hope 
which the king and she had begun to entertain of obtaining aid 
from foreign princes. As it can hardly have been suggested to 
them by any other advisers, we may probably attribute the orig- 
ination of the idea to the queen, who was naturally inclined to 
rate the influence of the empire highly, and to rely on her broth- 
er's zeal to assist her confidently. And Louis caught at it, as the 
only means of extricating him from a religious diflSculty which 
was causing him great distress, and which appeared to him insur- 
mountable by any means which he could command in his own 
country. As has been already seen, he had had no hesitation in 
yielding up his own prerogatives, and in making any concessions 
or surrenders which the Assembly required, so long as they touch- 
ed nothing but his own authority. He had even (which was a far 
greater sacrifice in his eyes) sanctioned the votes which had de- 
prived the Church of its property ; but in the course of the au- 
tumn the Assembly passed other measures also, which appeared to 
him absolutely inconsistent with religion. They framed a new 
ecclesiastical constitution which not only reduced the number of 
bishops (which, indeed, in France, as in all other Roman Catholic 
countries, had been unreasonably excessive), but Avhich also vested 
the whole patronage of the Church in the municipal authorities, 
and generally subordinated the Church to the civil law. And hav- 
ing completed these arrangements, which to a conscientious Ro- 
man Catholic bore the character of sacrilege, they required the 
whole body of the clergy to accept them, and to take an oath to 
observe them faithfully. 

Louis was in a great strait. Many of the chief prelates appeal- 



imOLENCE OF LA FAYETTE. 321 

ed to him for protection, which he thought his duty as a Chris- 
tian man bound him to afford them. But the protection which 
they implored could only be given by refusal of the royal assent 
to the bill. And he could not disguise from himself that such an 
exercise of his veto would furnish a pretext to his enemies for 
more violent denunciations of himself and the queen than had yet 
been heard. He had also, though his personal safety was at all 
times very slightly regarded by him, begun to feel himself a pris- 
oner, at the mercy of his enemies. La Fayette, as Commander-in- 
chief of the National Guard of Paris, had the protection of the 
royal palace intrusted to him ; and he availed himself of this 
charge, not as the guardian of the royal family, but rather as their 
jailer,* placing his sentries so as to be spies and a restraint upon 
all their movements, and seeking every opportunity to gain an 
ignoble popularity by an ostentatious disregard of all their wish- 
es, and of all courtesy, not to say decency, in his behavior to 
them.f And these considerations led the king, not only to au- 
thorize the Baron de Breteuil, who, as we have seen, had fled 
from the country in the previous year, to treat with any foreign 
princes who might be willing to exert themselves in his cause, 
but even to write, with his own hand, to the principal sovereigns, 
informing them that " in spite of his acceptance of the Constitu- 
tion, the factious portion of his subjects openly manifested their 
intention of destroying the monarchy," and suggesting the idea 
of " an armed congress of the principal powers of Europe, sup- 
ported by an armed force, as the best measure to arrest the prog- 
ress of factions, to re-establish order in France, and to prevent the 
evils which were devouring his country from seizing on the oth- 
er states of Europe. "J 

The historians of the democratic party have denounced with 
great severity the conduct of Louis in thus appealing to foreign 

* The Marshal de Bouille, who was La Fayette's cousin, says, in October of 
this year, "L'eveque de Pamiers me fit le tableau de la situation malheureux 
de ce prince et de la famille royale que la rigueur et durete de La Fay- 
ette, devenu leur geolier, rendent de jour en jour plus insupportable." — Me- 
moires de De Bouille, pp. 175, 181. And in June he had remarked, "Que sa 
popularite (de La Fayette) dependait plutot de la captivite du roi, qu'il tenait 
prisonnier, et qui etait sous sa garde, que de sa force personnelle, qui n'avait 
plus d'autri appui que la milice Parisiennne." 

f Ibid., p. 130. 

\ The letter to the King of Prussia is given by Lamartine ; its date is De- 
cember 3d, 1790. — Hutoire des Girondins, book v., § 12. ' 

21 



322 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

aid, as a proof that, in spite of his acceptance of the Constitu- 
tion, he was meditating a counter-revohition. The whole tenor 
of his and the queen's correspondence proves that this charge is 
groundless ; but it is equally certain that it was an impolitic step, 
one wholly opposed to every idea of Constitutional principles, of 
which the very foundation must always be perfect freedom from 
foreign influence, and from foreign connection in the internal 
government of the country. 

Fortunately, his secret was well kept, so that no knowledge of 
this step reached the leaders of the popular party ; and, however 
great may have been the queen's secret anxieties and fears, she 
kept them bravely to herself, displaying outwardly a serenity and 
a patience which won the admiration of all those who, in foreign 
countries, were watching the course of events in France with in- 
terest.* When she wept, she wept by herself. Her one com- 
fort was that her children were always with her ; and though the 
dauphin could only witness without understanding her grief, " re- 
marking on one occasion, when in one of his childish books he 
met the expression ' as happy as a queen,' that all queens are not 
happy, for his mamma wept from morning till night." Her 
daughter was old enough to enter into her sorrows ; and, as she 
writes to Madame de Polignac, mingles her own tears with hers. 
She had also the society of her sister-in-law Elizabeth, whom she 
had learned to love with an affection which could not be exceed- 
ed even by that which she bore her own sister, and which was 
cordially returned. She tells Madame de Polignac that Eliza- 
beth's calmness is one great relief and support to them all ; and 
Elizabeth can not find adequate words to express to one of her 
correspondents her admiration for the queen's " piety and resig- 
nation, which alone enable her to bear up against troubles such 
as no one before has ever known." 

But amidst all her griefs she cherishes hope — hope that the 
people (the " good people," as she invariably terms them) will re- 
turn to their senses ; and her other habitual feeling of benevo- 
lence, though she can now only exert it in forming projects for 
conferring further benefits on them when tranquillity should be 
restored. The feeling shows itself even in letters which have no 
reference to her own position. There had been discontent and 

* Mercy to Marie Antoinette, from The Hague, December iVth, 1Y90, Feuillet 
de Conches, i., p. 398. 




SHE REFUSES TO LEAVE FRANCE. 323 

signs of insurrection in the Netherlands which Mercy's recent let- 
ters led her to believe were passing away ; and her congratula- 
tions to her brother on this peaceful result dwell on the happi- 
ness " which it is to be able to pardon one's subjects without 
shedding one drop of blood, of which sovereigns are bound to be 
always careful."* 

Her brother, and many of her friends in France, were at this 
time pressing her to quit the country, professing to believe that 
if her enemies knew that she was out of their reach, they would 
be less vehement in their hostility to the king ; but she felt that 
such a course would be both unworthy of her, as timid and self- 
ish, and in every way injurious rather than beneficial to her hus- 
band. It could not save his authority, which, was what the Jaco- 
bins made it their first object to destroy ; and it would deprive 
him of the support of her affection and advice, which he constantly 
needed. 

" Pardon me, I beg of you," she replied to Leopold, "if I con- 
tinue to reject your advice to leave Paris. Consider that I do 
not belong to myself. My duty is to remain where Providence 
has placed me, and to oppose my body, if the necessity should 
arise, to the knives of the assassins who would fain reach the 
king. I should be unworthy of the name of our mother, which is 
as dear to you as to me, if danger could make me desert the king 
and my children."f 

We have seen that Marie Antoinette dreaded calumny more 
than the knife or poison of the assassin ; and there could hardly 
have been a greater proof how well founded her apprehensions 
were, and how unscrupulous her enemies, than is afforded by the 
fact that, in the latter part of this year, they actually brought 
back Madame La Mothe to Paris with the purpose of making a 
demand for a re - investigation of the whole story of the fraud 
on the jeweler — a pretense for reviving the libelous stories to the 
disparagement of the queen, the utter falsehood and absurdity of 
which had been demonstrated to the satisfaction of the whole 
world four years before. Nor was it wholly a Jacobin plot. La 
Fayette himself was, to a certain extent, an accomplice in it. As 
commander of the National Guard of the city, it was his duty to 
apprehend one who was an escaped convict ; but instead of doing 

* Feuillet de Conches, i., p. 401. 

f Ibid., p. 403, date December 2'7th, 1'790. 



324 LIFE OF MAMIE ANTOINETTE. 

so he preferred, identifying himself with her, and on one occasion 
had what Mirabeau rightly called the inconceivable insolence to 
threaten the queen with a divorce on the ground of unfaithful- 
ness to her husband. She treated his insinuations with the dig- 
nity which became herself, and the scorn which they and their 
utterers deserved ; and he found that his conduct had created 
such general disgust among all people who made the slightest pre- 
tense to decency, that he feared to lose his popularity if he did 
not disconnect himself from the plotters. Accordingly, he sepa- 
rated himself from the lady, though he still forbore to arrest her, 
and for some time confined himself to his old course of heaping 
on the royal family these petty annoyances and insults, which he 
could inflict with impunity because they were unobserved except 
by his victims. It is remarkable, however, that Mirabeau, who 
held him in a contempt which, however deserved, had in it some 
touch of rivalry and envy, believed that the queen was not really 
so much the object of his animosity as the king. In his eyes 
" all the manoeuvres of La Fayette were so many attacks on the 
queen ; and his attacks on the queen were so many steps to bring 
him within reach of the king. It was the king whom he really 
wanted to strike ; and he saw that the individual safety of one 
of the royal pair was as inseparable from that of the other as the 
king was from his crown."* And this opinion of Mirabeau is 
strongly corroborated by the Count de la Marck, who, a few 
weeks later, had occasion to go to Alsace, and who took great 
pains to ascertain the general state of public feeling in the dis- 
tricts through which he passed. During his absence he was in 
constant correspondence with those whom he had left behind, and 
he reports with great satisfaction that in no part of the country 
had he found the very slightest ill-feeling toward the queen. It 
was in Paris alone that the different libels against her were 
forged, and there alone that they found acceptance ; and, mani- 
festly referring to the projected departure from Paris, he express- 
es his firm conviction that the moment that she is at liberty, and 
able to show herself in the provinces, she will win the confidence 
of all classes, f 

However greatly Mirabeau would, on other grounds, have pre- 



* " Mirabeau et La Marck," ii., pp. 57-61. 

f Letter to the queen, date February 19th, 1791 ; " Correspondance de Mi- 
rabeau et La Marek," ii., p. 229. 



HER CONTINUED GOOD HEALTH. 325 

ferred personal intercourse with the court, he thought that his 
power of usefulness depended so entirely on his connection with 
it being unsuspected, that he did not think it prudent to solicit 
interviews with the queen. But he kept up a constant commu- 
nication with the court, sometimes by notes and elaborate me- 
morials, addressed indeed to Louis, but intended for Marie Antoi- 
nette's perusal and consideration ; and sometimes by conversa- 
tions with La Marck, which the count was expected to repeat to 
her. But, in all the counsels thus given, the thing most to be re- 
marked is the high opinion which they invariably display of the 
queen's resolution and ability. Every thing depends on her ; it 
is from her alone that he wishes to receive instructions ; it is her 
resolution that must supply the deficiencies of all around her. 
When he urges that a line of conduct should be adopted calcu- 
lated to render their majesties more popular; that they should 
show themselves more in public ; that they should walk in the 
most frequented places ; that they should visit the hospitals, the 
artisans' workshops, and make themselves friends by acts of char- 
ity and generosity, it is to her that he looks to carry out his sug- 
gestions, and to her affability and presence of mind that he trusts 
for the success which is to result from them ;* and La Marck is 
equally convinced that " her ability and resolution are equal to 
the conduct of affairs of the first importance." 

Meantime her health continued good. It showed her strength 
of mind that she never intermitted the recreations which contrib- 
uted to her strength, about which she was especially anxious, that 
she might at all times be ready to act on any emergency ; but 
rode with Elizabeth with great regularity in the Bois de Boulogne, 
even in the depth of the winter ; and, while watching with her 
habitual vigilance of affection over the education of her children, 
she found a pleasant relaxation for herself in providing them with 
amusement also ; often arranging parties, to which other children 
of the same age were invited, and finding amusement herself 
from watching their gambols in the long corridor of the Tuile- 
ries, their blindman's-buff and hide-and-seek.f 

The new year opened with grave plans for their extrication 
from their troubles — plans requiring the utmost forethought, in- 
genuity, and secrecy to bring them to a successful issue ; and also 



* " Mirabeau et La Marck," ii., pp. 153, 194, et passim. 
f " Souvenirs de Quarante Ans," p. 54. 



326 LIFE OP MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

with fresh injuries and insults from the Assembly and the munic- 
ipal authorities, which every week made the necessity of prompt- 
itude in carrying such plans out more manifest. Mirabeau, as 
we have seen, had from the very first recommended that the king 
and his family should withdraw from Paris. In his eyes such a 
step was the indispensable preliminary to all other measures ; and 
some of the earliest of the queen's letters in 1791 show that the 
resolution to leave the turbulent city had at last been taken. 
But though what he recommended was to be done, it was not to 
be done as he recommended ; yet there was a manliness about 
the course of action which he proposed which would of itself have 
won the queen's preference, if she had not been forced to consid- 
er not what was best and fittest, but what it was most easy to in- 
duce him on whom the final choice must depend, the king, to 
adopt. Mirabeau advised that the king should depart publicly, 
in open day, " like a king," as he expressed himself,* and he af- 
firmed his conviction that it would in all probability be quite un- 
necessary to remove farther than Compiegne ; but that the mo- 
ment that it should be known that the king was out of Paris, pe- 
titions demanding the re-establishment of order would flock in 
from every quarter of the kingdom, and public opinion, which 
was for the most part royalist, would compel the Assembly to 
modify the Constitution which it had framed, or, if it should 
prove refractory, would support the king in dissolving it and con- 
voking another. 

But this was too bold a step for Louis to decide on. He an- 
ticipated that the Assembly or the mob might endeavor to pre- 
vent such a movement by force, which could only be repelled by 
force ; and force he was resolved never to employ. The only al- 
ternative was to flee secretly ; and in the course of January, Mercy 
learns that that plan has been adopted, and that Compiegne is 
not considered sufficiently distant from Paris, but that some forti- 
fied place will be selected ; Valenciennes being the most likely, as 
he himself imagined, since, if farther flight should become neces- 
sary, it would be easy from thence to cross the frontier into the 
Belgian dominions of the queen's brother. But if Valenciennes 
had ever been thought of, it was rejected on that very account ; 
for Louis had learned from English history that the withdrawal 

* " Mirabeau aurait pref ere que Louis XVI. sortit publiquement, et en roi, 
M. de Bouille pensait de meme." — Mirabeau et La Marck^ i., p. 1*72. 



THE FLAN ADOPTED. 327 

of James II. from his kingdom had been alleged as one reason 
for declaring the throne vacant ; and he was resolved not to give 
his enemies any plea for passing a similar resolution with respect 
to himself. Valenciennes was so celebrated as a frontier town, 
that the mere fact of his fixing himself there might easily be rep- 
resented as an evidence of his intention to quit the kingdom. 
But there was a small town of considerable strength named Mont- 
medy, in the district under the command of the Marquis de Bouil- 
le, which afforded all the advantages of Valenciennes, and did not 
appear equally liable to the same objections. Montmedy, there- 
fore, was fixed upon ; and, in the very first week of February, 
Marie Antoinette announced the decision to Mercy ; and began 
her own preparations by sending him a jewel-case full of those 
diamonds which were her private property. She explained to 
him at considerable length the reasons which had dictated the 
choice. The very smallness of Montmedy was in itself a rec- 
ommendation, since it would prevent any one from thinking it 
likely to be selected as a refuge. It was also so near Luxem- 
bourg that, in the present temper of the nation, which regarded 
the Austrian power with " a panic fear," any addition which 
M. de Bouille might make to either the garrison or to his supplies 
would seem only a wise precaution against the much-dreaded for- 
eigner. Moreover, the troops in that district were among the 
most loyal and well-disposed in the whole army ; and if the king- 
should find it unsafe to remain long at Montmedy, he would have 
a trustworthy escort to retreat to Alsace. 

She also explained the reasons which had led them to decide 
on quittiog Paris secretly by night. If they started in the day- 
time, it would be necessary to have detachments of troops plant- 
ed at different spots on their road to protect them. But M. de 
Bouille could not rely on all his own regiments for such a serv- 
ice, and still less on the National Guards in the different towns ; 
while to bring up fresh forces from distant quarters would at- 
tract attention, and awaken suspicions beforehand which might 
be fatal to the enterprise. Montmedy, therefore, had been de- 
cided on, and the plans were already so far settled that she could 
tell Mercy that they should take Madame de Tourzel with them, 
and travel in one single carriage, which they had never been seen 
to use before. 

Their preparations had even gone beyond these details, minute 
as they were. The king was already collecting materials for a 



328 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

manifesto which lie designed to publish the moment that he 
found himself safely out of Paris. It would explain the reasons 
for his flight ; it would declare an amnesty to the people in gen- 
eral, to whom it would impute no worse fault than that of being 
misled (none being excepted but the chief leaders of the disloyal 
factions ; the city of Paris, unless it should at once return to its 
ancient tranquillity ; and any persons or bodies who might persist 
in remaining in arms). To the nation in general the manifesto 
would breathe nothing but affection. The Parliaments would be 
re-established, but only as judicial tribunals, which should have no 
pretense to meddle with the affairs of administration or finance. 
In short, the king and she had determined to take his declaration 
of the 23d of June* as the basis of the Constitution, with such 
modifications as subsequent circumstances might have suggested. 
Religion would be one of the matters placed in the foreground. 

So sanguine were they, or rather was she, of success, that she 
had even taken into consideration the principles on which future 
ministries should be constituted ; and here for the first time she 
speaks of herself as chiefly concerned in planning the future ar- 
rangements. " In private we occupy ourselves with discussing 
the very difficult choice which we shall have to make of the per- 
sons whom we shall desire to call around us when we are at lib- 
erty. I think that it will be best to place a single man at the 
head of affairs, as M. Maurepas was formerly ; and if it be settled 
in this way, th« king would thus escape having to transact busi- 
ness with each individual minister separately, and affairs would 
proceed more uniformly and more steadily. Tell me what you 
think of this idea. The fit man is not easy to find, and the more 
I look for him, the greater inconveniences do I see in all that oc- 
cur to me." 

She proceeds to discuss foreign affairs, the probable views and 
future conduct of almost every power in Europe — of Holland, 
Prussia, Spain, Sweden, England ; still showing the lingering jeal- 
ousy which she entertained of the British Government, which she 
suspected of wishing to detach the chivalrous Gustavus from the 
alliance of France by the offer of a subsidy. But she is sanguine 
that, though some may be glad to see the influence of France di- 
minished, no wise statesman in any country can desire her ruin or 
dismemberment. What is going on in France would be an ex- 

* 1789, see ante, p. 256. 



OPPRESSION OF THE CLERGY. 329 

ample too dangerous to other countries, if it were left unpunished. 
Their cause is the cause of all kings, and not a simple political 
difficulty."* 

The whole letter is a most remarkable one, and fully bears out 
the eulogies which all who had an opportunity of judging pro- 
nounced on her ability. But the most striking reflection which 
it suggests is with what admirable sagacity the whole of the ar- 
rangements for the flight of the royal family had been concert- 
ed, and with what judgment the agents had been chosen, since, 
though the enterprise was not attempted till more than four 
months after this letter was written, the secret was kept through 
the whole of that time without the slightest hint of it having been 
given, or the slightest suspicion of it having been conceived, by 
the most watchful or the most malignant of the king's enemies. 

Yet during the winter and early spring the conduct of the Jac- 
obin party in the Assembly, and of the Parisian mob whom they 
were keeping in a constant state of excitement, increased in vio- 
lence ; while one occurrence which took place was, in Mirabeau's 
opinion, especially calculated to prompt a suspicion of the king's in- 
tentions. Louis had at last, and with extreme reluctance, sanction- 
ed the bill which required the clergy to take an oath to comply 
with the new ecclesiastical arrangements, in the vain hope that the 
framers of it would be content with their triumph, and would for- 
bear to enforce it by fixing any precise date for administering the 
oath. But, at the end of January, Barnave obtained from the As- 
sembly a decree that it should be taken within twenty-four hours, 
under the penalty of deprivation of all their preferments to all who 
should refuse it ; the clerical members of the Assembly were even 
threatened by the mob in the galleries with instant death if they 
declined or even delayed to swear. And as very few of any rank 
complied, the main body of the clergy was instantly stripped of 
all their appointments and reduced to beggary, and a large pro- 
portion of them fled at once from the kingdom. Those who took 
the oath, and who in consequence were appointed to the offices 
thus vacated, were immediately condemned and denounced by the 
pope; and the consequence was that a great number of their 
flocks fled with their old priests, not being able to reconcile to 
their consciences to stay and receive the sacrament and rites of 
the Church from ministers under the ban of its head. 

* Date February 13th, 1791, Feuillet de Conches, i., p. 465. 



330 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

Among those who thus fled were the king's two aunts, the 
Princesses Adelaide and Victoire. Bigotry was their only virtue ; 
and they determined to seek shelter in Rome. Louis highly dis- 
approved of the step, which, as Mirabeau,* in a very elaborate 
and forcible memorial which he drew up and submitted to him, 
pointed out, might be very dangerous for the king and queen as 
well as for themselves, since it could be easily represented by the 
evil-minded as a certain proof that they also were designing to 
flee. And he even recommended that Louis should formally no- 
tify to the Assembly that he disapproved of his aunts' journey, 
and should make it a pretext for demanding a law which should 
give him the power of regulating the movements of the members 
of his family. 

The flight of the princesses, however, did not, as it turned out, 
cause any inconvenience to the king or queen, though it did en- 
danger themselves ; for, though they were furnished with pass- 
ports, the municipal authorities tried to stop them at Moret ; and 
at Arnay-le-Duc the mob unharnessed their horses and detained 
them by force. They appealed to the Assembly by letter ; Alex- 
ander Lameth, on this occasion uniting with the most violent Jac- 
obins, was not ashamed to move that orders should be dispatched 
to send them back to Paris : but the body of the Assembly had 
not yet descended to the baseness of warring with women ; and 
Mirabeau, who treated the proposal as ridiculous, and overwhelm- 
ed the mover with his wit, had no difficulty in procuring an order 
that the fugitives, " two princesses of advanced age and timorous 
consciences," as he called them, should be allowed to proceed on 
their journey. 

* "Mirabeau et La Marck," ii.,p., 216, date February 3d, 1'791. 



A TUMULT AT VINCENNES. 331 



CHAPTER XXX. 

The Mob attacks the Castle at Vincennes. — La Fayette saves it. — He insults 
the Nobles who come to protect the King. — Perverseness of the Count d'Ar- 
tois and the Emigrants. — Mirabeau dies. — General Sorrow for his Death. — 
He would probably not have been able to arrest the Revolution. — The Mob 
prevent the King from visiting St. Cloud. — The Assembly passes a Vote to 
forbid him to go more than twenty Leagues from Paris. 

The mob, however, was more completelj^ under Jacobin influ- 
ence ; and, at the end of February, Santerre collected his ruffians 
for a fresh tumult ; the object noAv being the destruction of the 
old castle of Vincennes, which for some time had been almost un- 
occupied. La Fayette, whose object at this time was apparently 
regulated by a desire to make all parties acknowledge his influ- 
ence, in a momentary fit of resolution marched a body of his Na- 
tional Guard down to save the old fortress, in which he succeeded, 
though not without much difficulty, and even some danger. He 
found he had greatly miscalculated his influence, not only over the 
populace, but over his own soldiers. The rioters fired on him, 
wounding some of his staff ; and at first many of the soldiers re- 
fused to act against the people. His officers, however, full of in- 
dignation, easily quelled the spirit of mutiny ; and, when subordi- 
nation was restored, proposed to the general to follow up his success 
by marching at once back into the city and seizing the Jacobin 
demagogues who had caused the riot. There was little doubt that 
the great majority of the citizens, in their fear of Santerre and 
his gang, would joyfully have supported him in such a measure ; 
but La Fayette's resolution was never very consistent nor very 
durable. He became terrified, not, indeed, so much at the risk 
to his life which he had incurred, as at the symptom that to re- 
sist the mob might cost him his popularity ; and to appease those 
whom he might have offended, he proceeded to insult the king. 
A report had got abroad, which was not improbably well founded, 
that Louis's life had been in danger, and that an assassin had been 
detected while endeavoring to make his way into the Tuileries ; 
and the report had reached a number of nobles, among whom 



332 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

D'Espremesnil, once so vehement a leader of the Opposition in 
Parliament, was conspicuous, who at once hastened to the palace 
to defend their sovereign. It was not strange that he and Marie 
Antoinette should receive them graciously ; they had not of late 
been used to such warm-hearted and prompt displays of attach- 
ment. But the National Guards who were on duty were jealous 
of the cordial and honorable reception which these Nobles met 
with ; they declared that to them alone belonged the task of de- 
fending the king ; though they took so little care to perform it 
that they had allowed a gang of drunken desperadoes to get pos- 
session of the outer court of the palace, where they were mena- 
cing all aristocrats with death. Louis became alarmed for the 
safety of his friends, and begged them to lay aside their arms ; 
and they had hardly done so when La Fayette arrived. He knew 
that the mob was exasperated with him for his repression of their 
outrages in the morning, and that some of his soldiers had not 
been well pleased at being compelled to act against the rioters. 
So now, to recover their good-will, he handed over the weapons 
of the Nobles, which were only pistols, rapiers, and daggers, to 
the National Guard; and after reproaching D'Espremesnil and 
his companions for interfering with the duties of his troops, he 
drove them down the stairs, unarmed and defenseless as the}'^ 
were, among the drunken and infuriated mob. They were hoot- 
ed and ill-treated ; but not only did he make no attempt to pro- 
tect them, but the next day he offered them a gratuitous insult by 
the publication of a general order, addressed to his own National 
Guard, in which he stigmatized their conduct as indecent, their 
professed zeal as suspicious, and enjoined all the officials of the 
palace to take care that such persons were not admitted in future. 
" The king of the Constitution," he said, " ought to be surround- 
ed by no defenders but the soldiers of liberty." 

Marie Antoinette had good reason to speak as she did the next 
week to Mercy ; though we can hardly fail to remark, as a singu- 
lar proof of the strength of her political prejudices, and of the de- 
gree in which she allowed them to blind her to the objects and the 
worth of the few honest or able men whom the Assembly contain- 
ed, that she still regards the Constitutionalists as only one degree 
less unfavorable to the king's legitimate authority than the Jaco- 
bins. And we shall hereafter see that to this mistaken estimate 
she adhered almost to the end. " Mischief," she says, " is making 
progress so rapid that there is reason to fear a speedy explosion, 



MISCONDUCT OF THE EMIO RANTS. 333 

which can not fail to be dangerous to us, if we ourselves do not 
guide it. There is no middle way ; either we must remain under 
the sword of the factions, and consequently be reduced to noth- 
ing, if they get the upper hand, or we must submit to be fettered 
under the despotism of men who profess to be well-intentioned, 
but who always have done, and always will do us harm. This is 
what is before us, and perhaps the moment is nearer than we 
think, if we can not ourselves take a decided line, or lead men's 
opinions by our own vigor and energetic action. What I here say 
is not dictated by any exaggerated notions, nor by any disgust at 
our position, nor by any restless desire to be doing something. I 
perfectly feel all the dangers and risks to which we are exposed 
at this moment. But I see that all around us affairs are so full 
of terror that it is better to perish in trying to save ourselves than 
to allow ourselves to be utterly crushed in a state of absolute in- 
action."* 

And she held the same language to her brother, the emperor, as- 
suring him that " the king and herself were both convinced of the 
necessity of acting with prudence, but there were cases in which 
dilatoriness might ruin every thing ; and that the factious and dis- 
loyal were prosecuting their objects with such celerity, aiming at 
nothing less than the utter subversion of the kingly power, that it 
would be extremely dangerous not to offer a resistance to their 
plans."f And referring to her project of foreign aid, she report- 
ed to him that she had promises of assistance from both Spain 
and Switzerland, if they could depend on the co-operation of the 
empire. 

And still the emigrant princes were adding to her perplexity by 
their perverseness. She wrote herself to the Count d'Artois to ex- 
postulate with him, and to entreat him " not to abandon himself 
to projects of which the success, to say the least, was doubtful, 
and which would expose himself to danger without the possibility 
of serving the king."| No description of the relative influence of 
the king and queen at this time can be so forcible as the fact that 
it was she who conducted all the correspondence of the court, *even 
with the king's brothers. But her remonstrances had no influence. 
We may not impute to the king's brothers any intention to injure 

* Feuillet de Conches, ii., p. 14, date March Yth. 

f Arneth, p. 146, letter of the queen to Leopold, February 27th, 1791. 

X Feuillet de Conches, ii., p. 20, date March 20th, 1791. 



334 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

him ; but unhappily they had both not only a mean idea of his ca- 
pacity, but a very high one, much worse founded, of their own; 
and full of self-confidence and self-conceit, they took their own 
line, perfectly regardless of the suspicions to which their perverse 
and untractable conduct exposed the king, carrying their obstina- 
cy so far that it was not without difficulty, that the emperor him- 
self, though they were in his dominions, was able to restrain their 
machinations. 

Meanwhile, the queen was steadily carrying on the necessary 
arrangements for flight. Money had to be provided, for which 
trustworthy agents were negotiating in Switzerland and Holland, 
while some the emperor might be expected to furnish. Mira- 
beau marked out for himself what he regarded as a most impor- 
tant share in the enterprise, undertaking to defend and justify 
their departure to the Assembly, and nothing doubting that he 
should be able to bring over the majority of the members to his 
view of that subject, as he had before prevailed upon them to 
sanction the journey of the princesses. But in the first days of 
April all the hopes of success which had been founded on his co- 
operation and support were suddenly extinguished by his death. 
Though he had hardly entered upon middle age, a constant course 
of excess had made him an old man before his time. In the lat- 
ter part of March he was attacked by an illness which his physi- 
cians soon pronounced mortal, and on the 2d of April he died. 
He had borne the approach of death with firmness, professing to 
regret it more for the sake of his country than for his own. He 
was leaving behind him no one, as he affirmed, who would be 
able to arrest the Revolution as he could have done ; and there 
can be no doubt that the great bulk of the nation did place con- 
fidence in his power to offer effectual resistance to the designs of 
the Jacobins. The various parties in the State showed this feel- 
ing equally by the different manner in which they received the 
intelligence. The court and the Royalists openly lamented him. 
The Jacobins, the followers of Lameth, and the partisans of the 
Duke of Orleans, exhibited the most indecent exultation.* But 
the citizens of Paris mourned for him, apparently, without refer- 
ence to party views. They took no heed of the opposition with 
which he had of late often defeated the plots of the leaders whom 

* Letter of M. Simolin, the Russian embassador, April 4th, 1791, Feuillet de 
Conches, ii., p. 31. 



AFTER THE DEATH OF MIR ABE AU. 335 

they tad followed to riot and treason. They cast aside all recol- 
lection of the denunciations of him as a friend to the court with 
which the streets had lately rung. In their eyes he was the per- 
sonification of the Revolution as a whole ; to him, as they viewed 
his career for the last two years, they owed the independence of 
the Assembly, the destruction of the Bastile, and of all other 
abuses ; and through him they doubted not still to obtain every 
thing that was necessary for the completion of their freedom. 

His remains were treated with honors never before paid to a 
subject. He lay in state ; he had a public funeral. His body 
was laid in the great Church of St. Genevieve, which, the very 
day before, had been renamed the Pantheon, and appropriated as 
a cemetery for such of her illustrious sons as France might here- 
after think worthy of the national gratitude. Yet, though his 
great confidant and panegyrist, M. Dumont,* has devoted an elab- 
orate argument to prove that he had not overestimated his pow- 
er to influence the future ; and though the Russian embassador, 
M. Simolin, a diplomatist of extreme acuteness, seems to imply 
the same opinion by his pithy saying that "he ought to have 
lived two years longer, or died two years earlier," we can hardly 
agree with them. La Marck, as has been seen, even when first 
opening the negotiation for his connection with the court, doubt- 
ed whether he would be able to undo the mischief which he had 
done ; and all experience shows that measures such as he had ac- 
quiesced in, measures not of reform nor of reconstruction, but of 
total abolition and destruction, are in their very nature irrevoca- 
ble and irremediable. The nobility was gone ; he had not resist- 
ed its suppression. The Church was gone ; he had himself been 
among the foremost of its assailants. How, even if he had wished 
it, could he have undone these acts ? and if he could not, how, 
without those indispensable pillars and supports, could any mon- 
archy endure ? That he was now fully alive to the magnitude of 
the dangers which encompassed both throne and people, and that 
he would have labored vigorously to avert them, we may do him 
the justice to believe. But it seems not so probable that he 
would have succeeded, as that he would have added one more to 
the list of these politicians who, having allowed their own selfish 
aims to carry them beyond the limits of prudence and justice, 
have afterward found it impossible to retrace their steps, but have 

* "Souvenirs sur Mirabeau," par fitienne Dumont, p. 201. 



336 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

learned to their shame and sorrow that their rashness has hut led 
to the disappointment of their hopes, the permanent downfall of 
their own reputations, and the ruin of what they would gladly 
have defended and preserved. And, on the whole, it is well that 
from time to time such lessons should be impressed upon the 
world. It is well that men of lofty genius and pure patriotism 
should learn, equally with the most shallow empiric or the most 
self-seeking demagogue, that false steps in politics can rarely be 
retraced ; that concessions once made can seldom, if ever, be re- 
called, but are usually the stepping-stones to others still more ex- 
tensive ; that what it would have been easy to preserve, it is com- 
monly impossible to repair or to restore. 

He had been laid in the grave only a fortnight, when, as if on 
purpose to show how utterly defenseless the king now was, the 
Jacobins excited the mob and the assembly to inflict greater in- 
sults on him than had been offered even by the attack on Ver- 
sailles, or by any previous vote. As Easter, which was unusually 
late this year, approached, Louis became anxious to spend a short 
time in tranquillity and holy meditation ; and, since the tumultu- 
ousness of the city was not very favorable for such a purpose, he 
resolved to pass a fortnight at St. Cloud. But when he was pre- 
paring to set out, a furious mob seized the horses and unharness- 
ed them ; the National Guards united with the rioters, refusing to 
obey La Fayette's orders to clear the way for the royal carriage, 
and the king and queen were compelled to dismount and to return 
to their apartments ; while, a day or two afterward, the Assembly 
came to a vote which seemed as if designed for an express sanc- 
tion of this outrage, and which ordained that the king should not 
be permitted ever to move more than twenty leagues from Paris. 

Of all the decrees which it had yet enacted, this, in some sense, 
may be regarded as the most monstrous. It was not only pass- 
ing a penal sentence on the royal family such as in no country or 
age any but convicted criminals had even been subjected to, but it 
was an insult and an injury to every part of the kingdom except 
the capital, which, by an intolerable assumption, it treated as if it 
were the whole of France. Joseph, as has been seen, had wisely 
pointed out to his brother-in-law that it was one, and no unim- 
portant part, of a sovereign's duty to visit the different provinces 
and chief cities of his kingdom, and Louis had in one instance 
acted on his advice. We have seen how gladly he was received 
by the citizens of Cherbourg, and what advantages they promised 



TYRANNY OF THE ASSEMBLY. 337 

themselves from his having thus made himself personally acquaint- 
ed with their situation and wants and prospects ; and we can not 
doubt that other towns and cities shared this feeling, nor that it 
was well founded, and that the acquisition by a king of a person- 
al knowledge of the resources and capabilities and interests of 
the great cities, of agriculture, manufactures, and commerce, is a 
benefit to the whole community ; but of this every province and 
every city but Paris was now to be deprived. It was to be an 
offense to visit Rouen, or Lyons, or Bordeaux ; to examine Riquet's 
canal or Vauban's fortifications. The king was the only person 
in the kingdom to whom liberty of movement was to be denied ; 
and the peasants of every province, and the citizens of every oth- 
er town, were to be refused for a single day the presence of their 
sovereign, whom the Parisians thus claimed a right to keep as a 
prisoner in their own district. 

It is hardly strange that such open attacks on their liberty 
made a deeper impression on the queen, and even on the phleg- 
matic disposition of the king, than any previous act of violence, or 
that it increased their eagerness to escape with as little delay as 
possible. Indeed, the queen regarded the public welfare as equal- 
ly concerned with their own in their safe establishment in some 
town to which they should also be able to remove the Assem- 
bly, so that that body as well as themselves should be protected 
from the fatal influence of the clubs of Paris, and of the popu- 
lace which was under the dominion of the clubs.* Accordingly, 
on the 20th of April, she writes to the emperorf that " the oc- 
currence which has just taken place has confirmed them more 
than ever in their plans. The very guards who surrounded 
them are the persons who threaten them most. Their very lives 
are not safe ; but they must appear to submit to every thing till 
the moment comes when they can act ; and in the mean time 
their captivity proves that none of their actions are done by their 
own accord." And she urges her brother at once to move a 
strong body of troops toward some of his fortresses on the Bel- 
gian frontier — Arlon, Vitron, or Mons — in order to give M. de 
Bouille a pretext for collecting troops and munitions of war at 
Montmedy. " Send me an immediate answer on this point ; let 

* In her letter to Mercy of August 16th, of which extracts are given in ch. 
xi., she takes credit for having encountered the dangers of the journey to 
Montmedy for the sake of " the pubUc welfare." 

f Arneth, p. 155. 

22 



338 LIFE OF MARIF ANTOINETTE. 

me tnow, too, about the money ; our position is frightful, and 
we must absolutely put an end to it next month. The king de- 
sires it even more than I do." 

As May proceeds she presses on her preparations, and urges 
the emperor to accelerate his, especially the movements of his 
troops ; but the Count d'Artois and his followers are a terrible 
addition to her anxieties. Leopold had told her that the ancient 
minister, Calonne, always restless and always unscrupulous, was 
now with the count, and was busily stirring him up to undertake 
some enterprise or other;* and her reply shows how justly she 
dreads the results of such an alliance. " The prince, the Count 
d'Artois, and all those whom they have about them, seem deter- 
mined to be doing something. They have no proper means of 
action, and they will ruin us, without our having the slightest 
connection with their plans. Their indiscretion, and the men 
who are guiding them, will prevent our communicating our secret 
to them till the very last moment." 

To Mercy she is even more explicit in her description of the 
imminence of the danger to which the king and she are now ex- 
posed than she had been to her brother. As the time for at- 
tempting to escape grew nearer, the embassador became the more 
painfully impressed with the danger of the attempt. Failure, as 
it seems to him, will be absolutely fatal. He asks her anxiously 
whether the necessity is such that it has become indispensable to 
risk such a result ;f and she, in an answer of considerable length 
and admirable clearness of expression and argument, explains her 
reasons for deciding that it is absolutely unavoidable : " The only 
alternative for us, especially since the 18th of April, J is either 
blindly to submit to all that the factions require, or to perish by 
the sword which is forever suspended over our heads. Believe 
me, I am not exaggerating the danger ; you know that my notion 
used to be, as long as I could cherish it, to trust to gentleness, to 
time, and to public opinion. But now all is changed, and we 
must either perish or take the only line which remains to us. 
We are far from shutting our eyes to the fact that this line also 

* Letter of Leopold to Marie Antoinette, date May 2d, I'ZQl, Arneth, p. 162. 

f " Cette demarche est le terme extreme de reussir ou perir. Les choses en 
sont-elles au point de rendre ce risque indispensable ?" — Mercy to Mai'ie Antoi- 
nette, May 11th, 1791, Arneth, p. 163. 

X The day on which the king and she had been prevented from going to 
St. Cloud. 



THE NECESSITY OF ESCAPE. 339 

has its perils ; but, if we must die, it will be at least with glory, 
and in having done all that we could for our duty, for honor, and 

for religion I believe that the provinces are less corrupted 

than the capital ; but it is always Paris which gives the tone to 
the whole kingdom. "We should greatly deceive ourselves if we 
fancied that the events of the 1 8th of April, horrible as they were, 
produced any excitement in the provinces. The clubs and the 
affiliations lead France where they please ; the right-thinking peo- 
ple, and those who are dissatisfied with what is taking place, ei- 
ther flee from the country or hide themselves, because they are not 
the stronger party, and because they have no rallying-point. But 
when the king can show himself freely in a fortified place, people 
will be astonished to see the number of dissatisfied persons who 
will then come forward, who, till that time, are groaning in si- 
lence ; but the longer we delay, the less support we shall have 

"Let us resume. You ask two questions: 1st. Is it possible 
or useful to wait ? No ; by the explanation of our position which 
I gave at the beginning of this letter, I have sufficiently proved 
the impossibility As to the usefulness, it could only be use- 
ful on the supposition that we could count on a new legislative 
body. .... 2d. Admitting the necessity of acting promptly, are we 
sure of means to escape ; of a place to retreat to, and of having a 
party strong enough to maintain itself for two months by its own 
resources ? I have answered this question several times. It is more 
than probable that the king, once escaped from here, and in a 
place of safety, will have, and will very soon find, a very strong- 
party. The means of escape depend on a flight the most imme- 
diate and the most secret. There are only four persons who are 
acquainted with our secret; and those whom we mean to take 
with us will not know it till the very moment. None of our own 
people will attend us ; and at a distance of only thirty or thirty- 
five leagues we shall find some troops to protect our march, but 
not enough to cause us to be recognized till we reach the place of 
our destination. 

"... .1 can easily conceive the repugnance which, on political 
grounds, the emperor would feel to allowing his troops to enter 
France But if their movement is solicited by his brother- 
in-law, his ally, whose life, existence, and honor are in danger, I 
conceive the case is very different ; and as to Brabant, that prov- 
ince will never be quiet till this country is brought back to a dif- 
ferent state. It is, then, for himself also that my brother will be 



340 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

working in giving us this assistance, whicli is so mucli the more 
valuable to us, that his troops will serve as an example to ours, 
and will even be able to restrain them. 

"And it is with this view that the person* of whom I spoke 
to you in my letter in cipher demands their employment for a 

time We can not delay longer than the end of this month. 

By that time I hope we shall have a decisive answer from Spain. 
But till the very instant of our departure we must do every thing 
that is required of us, and even appear to go to meet them. It is 
one way, perhaps the only one, to lull the mob to sleep and to 
save our lives." 

* The king. 



THE ROYAL FAMILY FBEPARINQ TO ESCAPE. 341 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

Plans for the Escape of the Royal Family. — Dangers of Discovery. — Resolu- 
tion of the Queen. — The Royal Family leave the Palace. — They are recog- 
nized at Ste. Menehould. — Are arrested at Varennes. — Tumult in the City, 
and in the Assembly. — The King and Queen are brought back to Paris. 

Marie Antoinette, as we have seen, had been anxious that 
their departure from Paris should not be delayed beyond the end 
of May, and De Bouille had agreed with her ; but- enterprises of 
so complicated a character can rarely be executed with the rapid- 
ity or punctuality that is desired, and it was not till the 20th of 
June that this movement, on which so much depended, was able 
to be put in execution. Often during the preceding weeks the 
queen's heart sunk within her when she reflected on the danger 
of discovery, whether from the acuteness of her enemies or the 
treachery of pretended friends ; and even more when she pon- 
dered on the character of the king himself, so singularly unfitted 
for an undertaking in which it was not the passive courage with 
which he was amply endowed, but daring resolution, promptitude, 
and presence of mind, which were requisite. She was cheered, 
however, by repeated letters from the emperor, showing the warm 
and affectionate interest which he took in the result of the enter- 
prise, and promising with evident sincerity " his own most cordial 
co-operation in all that could tend to her and her husband's suc- 
cess, when the time should come for him to show himself." 

But her main reliance was on herself ; and all who were privy 
to the enterprise knew well that it was on her forethought and 
courage that its success wholly depended. Those who were privy 
to it were very few ; and it is a singular proof how few French- 
men, even of the highest rank, could be trusted at this time, that 
of these few two were foreigners — a Swede, the Count de Fersen, 
whose name has been mentioned in earlier chapters of this narra- 
tive, and (an English writer may be proud to add) an Englishman, 
Mr. Craufurd, In such undertakings the simplest arrangements 
are the safest ; and those devised by the queen and her advisers, 
the chief of whom were De Fersen and De Bouille, were as sim- 



342 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

pie as possible. The royal fugitives were to pass for a traveling 
party of foreigners. A passport signed by M. Montmorin, who 
still held the seals of the Foreign Department, was provided for 
Madame de Tourzel, who, assuming the name of Madame de Korff, 
a Russian baroness, professed to be returning to her own country 
with her family and her ordinary equipage. The dauphin and his 
sister were described as her children, the queen as their governess ; 
while the king himself, under the name of Durand, was to pass as 
their servant. Three of the old disbanded Body-guard, MM. De 
Valory, De Maiden, and De Moustier, were to attend the party in 
the disguise of couriers ; and, under the pretense of providing for 
the safe conveyance of a large sum of money which was required 
for the payment of the troops, De Bouille undertook to post a 
detachment of soldiers at each town between Chalons and Mont- 
medy, through which the travelers were to pass. 

Some of the other arrangements were more difficult, as more 
likely to lead to a betrayal of the design. It was, of course, im- 
possible to use any royal carriage, and no ordinary vehicle was 
large enough to hold such a party. But in the preceding year 
De Fersen had had a carriage of unusual dimensions built for 
some friends in the South of Europe, so that he had no difficulty 
now in procuring another of similar pattern from the same maker ; 
and Mr. Craufurd agreed to receive it into his stables, and at the 
proper hour to convey it outside the barrier. 

Yet in spite of the care displayed in these arrangements, and 
of the absolute fidelity observed by all to whom the secret was in- 
trusted, some of the inferior attendants about the court suspected 
what was in agitation. The queen herself, with some degree of 
imprudence, sent away a large package to Brussels ; one of her 
waiting-women discovered that she and Madame Campan had 
spent an evening in packing up jewels, and sent warning to Gou- 
vion, an aid -de -camp of La Fayette, and to Bailly, the mayor, 
that the queen at last was preparing to flee. Luckily Bailly had 
received so many similar notices that he paid but little attention 
to this ; or perhaps he was already beginning to feel the repent- 
ance, which he afterward exhibited, at his former insolence to his 
sovereign, and was not unwilling to contribute to their safety by 
his inaction ; while Gouvion was not anxious to reveal th6 source 
from whicL he had obtained his intelligence. Still, though noth- 
ing precise was known, the attention of more than one person 
was awakened to the movements of the royal family, and especial- 



DIFFICULTIES OF THE ENTERPBHSE. 343 

ly that of La Fayette, wlio, alarmed lest his prisoners should es- 
cape him, redoubled his vigilance, driving down to the palace 
every night, and often visiting them in their apartments to make 
himself certain of their presence. Six hundred of the National 
Gruard were on duty at the Tuileries, and sentinels were placed at 
the end of every passage and at the foot of every staircase ; but 
fortunately a small room, witb a secret door which led into the 
queen's chamber, as it had been for some time unoccupied, had 
escaped the observation of the officers on guard, and that passage 
therefore offered a prospect of their being able to reach the court- 
yard without being perceived.* 

On the morning of the day appointed for the great enterprise, 
all in the secret were vividly excited except the queen. She alone 
preserved her coolness. No one could have guessed from her de- 
meanor that she was on the point of embarking in an undertak- 
ing on which, in her belief, her own life and the lives of all those 
dearest to her depended. The children, who knew nothing of 
what was going on, went to their usual occupations — the dauphin 
to his garden on the terrace, Madame Royale to her lessons ; and 
Marie Antoinette herself, after giving some orders which were to 
be executed in the course of the next day or two, went out riding 
with her sister-in-law in the Bois de Boulogne. Her conversation 
throughout the day was light and cheerful. She jested with the 
officer on guard about the reports which she understood to be in 
circulation about some intended flight of the king, and was re- 
lieved to find that he totally disbelieved them. She even vent- 
ured on the same jest with La Fayette himself, who replied, in 
his usual surly fashion, that such a project was constantly talked 
of ; but even his rudeness could not discompose her. 

As the hour drew near she began to prepare her children. The 
princess was old enough to be talked to reasonably, and she con- 
tented herself, therefore, with warning her to show no surprise at 
any thing that she might see or hear. The dauphin was to be 
disguised as a girl, and it was with great glee that he let the at- 
tendants dress him, saying that he saw that they were going to 
act a play. The royal supper usually took place soon after nine ; 
at half-past ten the family separated for the night, and by eleven 
their attendants were all dismissed; and Marie Antoinette had 
fixed that hour for departing, because, even if the sentinels should 

* Chambrier, ii., p. 86-88. 



344 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

get a glimpse of them, they would be apt to confound them with 
the crowd which usually quit the palace at that time. 

Accordingly, at eleven o'clock the Count de Fersen, dressed as 
a coachman, drove an ordinary job-carriage into the court-yard ; 
and Marie Antoinette, who trusted nothing to others which she 
could do herself, conducted Madame de Tourzel and the children 
down-stairs, and seated them safely in the carriage. But even her 
nerves nearly gave way when La Fayette's coach, brilliantly light- 
ed, drove by, passing close to her as he proceeded to the inner 
court to ascertain from the guard that every thing was in its 
usual condition. In an agony of fright she sheltered herself be- 
hind some pillars, and in a few minutes the marquis drove back, 
and she rejoined the king, who was awaiting her summons in his 
own apartment, while one of the disguised Body-guards went for 
the Princess Elizabeth. Even the children were inspired with 
their mother's courage. As the princess got into the carriage she 
trod on the dauphin, who was lying in concealment at the bottom, 
and the brave boy spoke not a word ; while Louis himself gave a 
remarkable proof how, in spite of the want of moral and political 
resolution which had brought such miseries on himself and his 
country, he could yet preserve in the most critical moments his 
presence of mind and kind consideration for others. He was half 
way down-stairs when he returned to his room. M. Valory, who 
was escorting him, was dismayed when he saw him turn back, 
and ventured to remind him how precious was every instant. " I 
know that," replied the kind-hearted monarch ; " but they will 
murder my servant to-morrow for having aided my escape ;" and, 
sitting down at his table, he wrote a few lines declaring that the 
man had acted under his peremptory orders, and gave the note to 
him as a certificate to protect him from accusation. Wlien all 
the rest were seated, the queen took her place. De Fersen drove 
them to the Porte St. Martin, where the great traveling -carriage 
was waiting, and, having transferred them to it, and taken a re- 
spectful leave of them, he fled at once to Brussels, which, more 
fortunate than those for whom he had risked his life, he reached 
in safety. 

For a hundred miles the royal fugitives proceeded rapidly and 
without interruption. One of the supposed couriers was on the 
box, another rode by the side of the carriage, and the third went 
on in advance to see that the relays were in readiness. Before 
midday they reached Chalons, the place where they were to be 



THE KING IS RECOGNIZED. 345 

met by the first detachment of De Bouille's troops ; and, when 
the well-known uniforms met her eye, Marie Antoinette for the 
first time gave full expression to her feelings. " Thank God, we 
are saved !" she exclaimed, clasping her hands ; the fervor of her 
exclamation bearing undesigned testimony to the greatness of the 
fears which, out of consideration for others, she had hitherto 
kept to herself ; but in truth out of this employment of the troops 
arose all their subsequent disasters. 

De Bouille had been unwilling to send his detachments so far 
forward, pointing out that the notice which their arrival in the 
different towns was sure to attract would do more harm than 
their presence as a protection could do good. But his argument 
had been overruled by the king himself, who apprehended the 
greatest danger from the chance of being overtaken, and expected 
it, therefore, to increase with every hour of the journey. De 
Bouille's fears, however, were found to be the best justified by 
the event. In more than one town, even in the few hours that 
had elapsed since the arrival of the soldiers, there had been quar- 
rels between them and the towns - people ; in others, which was 
still worse, the populace had made friends with them and seduced 
them from their loyalty, so that the officers in command had 
found it necessary to withdraw them altogether ; and anxiety at 
their unexpected absence caused Louis more than once to show 
himself at the carriage window. More than once he was recog- 
nized by people who knew him and kept his counsel ; but Drouet, 
the postmaster at Ste. Menehould, a town about one hundred and 
seventy miles from Paris, was of a less loyal disposition. He 
had lately been in the capital, where he had become infected with 
the Jacobin doctrines. He too saw the king's face, and on com- 
paring his somewhat striking features with the stamp on some 
public documents which he chanced to have in his pocket, be- 
came convinced of his identity. He at once reported to the mag- 
istrates what he had seen, and with their sanction rode forward 
to the next town, Clermont, hoping to be able to collect a force 
sufficient to stop the royal carriage on its arrival there. But the 
king traveled so fast that he had quit Clermont before Drouet 
reached it, and he even arrived at Varennes before his pursuer. 
Had he quit that place also he would have been in safety, for 
just beyond it De Bouille had posted a strong division which 
would have been able to defy all resistance. But Varennes, a 
town on the Oise, was so small as to have no post-house, and by 



346 LIFE OF 3IABIF ANTOINETTE. 

some mismanagement the royal party had not been informed at 
which end of the town they were to find the relay. The carriage 
halted while M. Valory was making the necessary inquiries ; and, 
while it was standing still, Drouet rode up and forbade the pos- 
tilions to proceed. He himself hastened on through the town, 
collected a few of the towns-people, and with their aid upset a 
cart or two on the bridge to block up the way ; and, having thus 
made the road impassable, he roused the municipal authorities, 
for it was nearly midnight, and then, returning to the royal car- 
riage, he compelled the royal family to dismount and follow him 
to the house of the mayor, a petty grocer, whose name was 
Stra.usse. The magistrates sounded the tocsin : the National 
Guard beat to arms : the king and queen w^ere prisoners. 

How they were allowed to remain so is still, after all the ex- 
planations that have been given, incomprehensible. Two officers 
with sixty hussars, all well disposed and loyal, were in a side 
street of the town waiting for their arrival, of which they were 
not aware. Six of the troopers actually passed the travelers in 
the street as they were proceeding to the mayor's house, but no 
one, not even the queen, appealed to them for succor ; or they 
could have released them without an effort, for Drouet's whole 
party consisted of no more than eight unarmed men. And when, 
an hour afterward, the officers in command learned that the king 
was in the town in the hands of his enemies, instead of at once 
delivering him, they were seized with a panic: they would not 
take on themselves the responsibility of acting without express 
orders, but galloped back to De Bouille to report the state of af- 
fairs. In less than an hour three more detachments, amounting 
in all to above one hundred men, also reached the town ; and 
their commanders did make their way to the king, and asked his 
orders. He could only reply that he was a prisoner, and had no 
orders to give ; and not one of the officers had the sense to per- 
ceive that the fact of his announcing himself a prisoner was in 
itself an order to deliver him. 

One word of command from Louis to clear the way for him at 
the sword's point would yet have been sufficient ; but he had 
still the same invincible repugnance as ever to allow blood to be 
shed in his quarrel. He preferred peaceful means, which could 
not but fail. With a dignity arising from his entire personal 
fearlessness, he announced his name and rank, his reasons for 
quitting Paris and proceeding to Montmedy; declaring that he 



EXCITEMENT IN PARIS. 347 

had no thougM of quitting the kingdom, and demanded to be 
allowed to proceed on his journey. Wliile the queen, her fears 
for her children overpowering all other feelings, addressed herself 
with the most earnest entreaties to the mayor's wife, declaring 
that their very lives would be in danger if they should be taken 
back to Paris, and imploring her to use her influence with her 
husband to allow them to proceed. Neither Strausse nor his wife 
was ill-disposed toward the king, but had not the courage to 
comply with the request of the royal couple whom, after a little 
time, the mayor and his wife could not have allowed to proceed, 
however much they might have wished it; for the tocsin had 
brought up numbers of the National Guard, who w^ere all dis- 
loyal ; while some of the soldiers began to show a disinclination 
to act against them. And so matters stood for some hours ; a 
crowd of towns-people, peasants. National Guards, and dragoons 
thronging the room ; the king at times speaking quietly to his 
captors ; the queen weeping, for the fatigue of the journey, and 
the fearful disappointment at being thus baffled at the last mo- 
ment, after she had thought that all danger was passed, had 
broken down even her nerves. At first she had tried to per- 
suade Louis to act with resolution ; but when, as usual, she failed, 
she gave way to despair, and sat silent, with touching, helpless 
sorrow, gazing on her children, who had fallen asleep. 

At seven o'clock on the morning of the 22d a single horseman 
rode into the town. He was an aid-de-camp of La Fayette. On 
the morning of the 21st the excitement had been great in Paris 
when it became known that the king had fled. The mob rose in 
furious tumult. They forced their way into the Tuileries, plun- 
dering the palace and destroying the furniture. A fruit-woman 
took possession of the queen's bed, as a stall to range her cher- 
ries on, saying that to-day it was the turn of the nation ; and a 
picture of the king was torn down from the walls, and, after be- 
ing stuck up in derision outside the gates for some time, was 
ojSered for sale to the highest bidder.* In the Assembly the 
most violent language was used. An oflficer whose name has 
been preserved through the eminence which after his death was 
attained by his Avidow and his children, General Beauharnais, was 
the president ; and as such, he announced that M. Bailly had re- 
ported to him that the enemies of the nation had carried off the 

* Lamartine's " Histoire des Girondins," ii., p. 15. 



348 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

king. The whole Assembly was roused to fury at the idea of 
his having escaped from their power. A decree was at once 
drawn up in form, commanding that Louis should be seized 
wherever he could be found, and brought back to Paris. No one 
could pretend that the Assembly had the slightest right to issue 
such an order ; but La Fayette, with the alacrity which he always 
displayed when any insult was to be offered to the king or queen, 
at once sent it off by his own aid-de-camp, M, Roraeuf, with in- 
structions to see that it was carried out. The order was now 
delivered to Strausse ; the king, with scarcely an attempt at re- 
sistance, declared his willingness to obey it; and before eight 
o'clock he and his family, with their faithful Body-guard, now in 
undisguised captivity, were traveling back to Paris. 

When was there ever a journey so miserable as that which 
now brought its sovereigns back to that disloyal and hostile city ! 
The National Guard of Verennes, and of other towns through 
which they passed, claimed a right to accompany them ; and as 
they were all infantry, the speed of the carriage was limited to 
their walking pace. So slowly did the procession advance, that 
it was not till the fourth day that it reached the barrier ; and, in 
many places on the road, a mob had collected in expectation of 
their arrival, and aggravated the misery of their situation by fero- 
cious threats addressed to the queen, and even to the little dau- 
phin. But at Chalons they were received with respect by the 
municipal authorities ; the Hotel de Ville had been prepared for 
their reception : a supper had been provided. The queen was 
even entreated to allow some of the principal ladies of the city to 
be presented to her; and, as the next day was the great Roman 
Catholic festival of the Fete Dieu, they were escorted with all 
honor to hear mass in the cathedral, before they resumed tbeir 
journey. Even the National Guard were not all hostile or inso- 
lent. At Epernay, though a menacing crowd surrounded the car- 
riage as they dismounted, the commanding officer took up the 
dauphin in his arms to carry him in safety to the door of the ho- 
tel ; comforting the queen at the same time with a loyal whisper 
well suited to her feelings, " Despise this clamor, madame ; there 
is a God above all." 

But, miserable as their journey was, soon after leaving Chalons 
it became more wretched still. They were no longer to be al- 
lowed the privilege of suffering and grieving by themselves. The 
Assembly had sent three of its members to take charge of them, 



CONDUCT OF BABNAVE AND P&TION. 349 

selecting, as might have been expected, two who were known as 
among their bitterest enemies — Barnave, and a man named Pe- 
tion ; the third, M. Latour Maubourg, was a plain soldier, who 
might be depended on for carrying out his orders with resolu- 
tion. In one respect those who made the choice were disap- 
pointed. Barnave, whose hostility to the king and queen had 
been chiefly dictated by personal feelings, was entirely convert- 
ed by the dignified resignation of the queen, and from this day 
renounced his republicanism ; and, though he adhered to what 
were known as Constitutionalist views, was ever afterward a zeal- 
ous advocate of both the monarch and the monarchy. But Pe- 
tion took every opportunity of insulting Louis, haranguing him 
on the future abolition of royalty, and reproaching him for many 
of his actions, and for what he believed to be his feelings and 
views for the future. 

It was the afternoon of the 25th when they came in sight of 
Paris. So great had been Marie Antoinette's mental sufferings 
that in those few days her hair had turned white ; and fresh and 
studied humiliations were yet in store for her. The carriage was 
not allowed to take the shortest road, but was conducted some 
miles round, that it might be led in triumph down the Champs 
Elj'^sees, where a vast mob was waiting to feast their eyes on the 
spectacle, whose display of sullen ill-will had been bespoken by a 
notice prohibiting any one from taking off his hat to the king, or 
uttering a cheer. The National Guard were forbidden to present 
arms to him ; and it seemed as if they interpreted this order as a 
prohibition also against using them in his defense ; for, as the 
carriage approached the palace, a gang of desperate ruffians, some 
of whom were recognized as among the most ferocious of the for- 
mer assailants of Versailles, forced their way through their ranks, 
pressed up against the carriage, and even mounted on the steps. 
Barnave and Latour Maubourg, fearing that they intended to 
break open the doors, placed themselves against them ; but they 
contented themselves with looking in at the window, and uttering 
sanguinary threats. Marie Antoinette became alarmed — not for 
herself, but for her children. They had so closed up every ave- 
nue of air that those within were nearly stifled, and the youngest, 
of course, suffered most. She let down a glass, and appealed to 
those who were crowding round : " For the love of God," she ex- 
claimed, " retire ; my children are choking !" " We will soon 
choke you," was the only reply they vouchsafed to her. At last, 



350 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

however, La Fayette came up with an armed escort, and they were 
driven off; but they still followed the carriage up to the very 
gate of the palace with yells of insult. And it had a stranger 
follower still : behind the royal carriage came an open cabriolet, 
in which sat Drouet, with a laurel crown on his head,* as if the 
chief object of the procession were to celebrate his triumph over 
his king. 

The mob was even hoping to add to its impressiveness by the 
slaughter of some immediate victims — not of the king and queen, 
for they believed them to be destined to public execution ; but 
they were eager to massacre the faithful Body-guards, who had 
been brought back, bound, on the box of the carriage ; and they 
would undoubtedly have carried out their bloody purpose had 
not the queen remembered them, and, as she was dismounting, 
entreated Barnave and La Fayette to protect them. Though 
during the last three days many things had had their names al- 
tered,! the Tuileries had been spared. It was still in name a 
royal palace, but those who now entered it knew it for their pris- 
on. The sun was setting, the emblem of the extinction of their 
royalty, as they ascended the stairs to find such rest as they might, 
and to ponder in privacy for this one night over their fatal disap- 
pointment, and their still more fatal future. 

Yet, though their return was full of ignominy and wretched- 
ness, though their home had become a prison, the only exit from 
which was to be the scaffold, still, if posthumous renown can 
compensate for miseries endured in this life ; if it be worth while 
to purchase, even by the most terrible and protracted sufferings, 
an undying, unfading memory of the most admirable virtues — of 
fidelity, of trath, of patience, of resignation, of disinterestedness, 
of fortitude, of all the qualities which most ennoble and sanctify 
the heart — it may be said, now that her agonies have long been 
terminated, and that she has been long at rest, that it was well for 
Marie Antoinette that she had failed to reach Montmedy, and that 
she had thus fallen again, without having to reproach herself in 
any single particular, into the hands of her enemies. As a pris- 
oner to the baspst of mankind, as victim to the most ferocious 

* Moore's "View," ii.,p. 36'7. 

f The Palais Royal had been named the Palais National. All signs with 
the portraits of the king or queen, all emblems of royalty, had been torn 
down. A shop-keeper was even obliged to erase his name from his shop 
door because it was Louis. — Moore's View, etc., ii., p. 356. 



SUBSEQUENT TRIALS OF THE QUEEK 351 

monsters that have ever disgraced humanity, she has ever com- 
manded, and she will never cease to command, the sympathy and 
admiration of every generous mind. But the case would have 
been widely different had Louis and she found the refuge which 
they sought with the loyal and brave De Bouille. Their arrival 
in his camp could not have failed to be a signal for civil war ; 
and civil war, under such circumstances as those of France at that 
time, could have had but one termination — their defeat, dethrone- 
ment, and expulsion from the country. In a foreign land they 
might, indeed, have found security, but they would have enjoyed 
but little happiness. Wherever he may be, the life of a deposed 
and exiled sovereign must be one of ceaseless mortification. The 
greatest of the Italian poets has well said that the recollection of 
former happiness is the bitterest aggravation of present misery ;■ 
and not only to the fugitive monarch himself, but to those who 
still preserve their fidelity to him, and to the foreign people to 
whom he is indebted for his asylum, the recollection of his former 
greatness vnll ever be at hand to add still further bitterness to his 
present humiliation. The most friendly feeling his misfortunes 
can ever excite is a contemptuous pity, such as noble and proud 
minds must find it harder to endure than the utmost virulence of 
hatred and enmity. 

From such a fate, at least, Marie Antoinette was saved. During 
the remainder of her life her failure did indeed condemn her to a 
protraction of trial and agony such as no other woman has ever 
endured; but she always prized honor far above life, and it also 
opened to her an immortality of glory such as no other woman 
has ever achieved. 



352 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

Marie Antoinette's Feelings on her Return. — She sees Hopes of Improve- 
ment. — The 17th of July. — The Assembly inquire into the King's Conduct 
on leaving Paris. — They resolve that there is no Reason for taking Pro- 
ceedings. — Excitement in Foreign Countries. — The Assembly proceeds to 
complete the Constitution. — It declares all the Members Incapable of Elec- 
tion to the New Assembly. — Letters of Marie Antoinette to the Emperor 
and to Mercy. — The Declaration of Pilnitz. — The King accepts the Con- 
stitution. — Insults oif ered to him at the Festival of the Champ de Mars. — 
And to the Queen at the Theatre. — The First or Constituent Assembly is 
dissolved. 

It was eminently characteristic of Marie Antoinette that her 
very first act, the morning after her return, was to write to De 
Fersen, to inform him that she was safe and well in health ; but 
though she had roused herself for that effort of gratitude and 
courteous kindness, for some days she seemed stupefied by grief 
and disappointment, and unable to speak or think for a single 
moment of any thing but the narrow chance which had crushed 
her hopes, and changed success, when it had seemed to be se- 
cured, into ruin ; and, if ever she could for a moment drive the 
feeling from her mind, her enemies took care to force it back 
upon her every hour. Before they reached the Tuileries, La Fay- 
ette had obtained from the Assembly authority to place guards 
wherever he might think fit ; and no jailer ever took more rigor- 
ous precautions for the safe-keeping of the most desperate crimi- 
nals than this man of noble birth, but most ignoble heart,*' now 

* A certain set of writers in this country at one time made La Fayette a 
subject for almost unmixed eulogy, with such earnestness that it may be 
worth while to reproduce the opinion expressed of him by the greatest of his 
contemporaries — a man as acute in his penetration into character as he was 
stainless in honor — the late Duke of Wellington. In the summer of 1815, 
he told Sir John Malcolm that "he had used La Fayette like a dog, as he 
merited. The old rascal," said he, "had made a false report of his mission 
to the Emperor of Russia, and I possessed complete evidence of his having 
done so. I told him, the moment he entered, of this fact ; I did not even 
state it in the most delicate manner. I told him he must be sensible he had 
made a false report. He made no answer." And the duke bowed him out 
of the room with unconcealed scorn. — Kate's Life of Sir J. Malcolm, ii., 
p. 109. 



ARROGANCE OF LA FAYETTE. 353 

practiced toward his king and queen. Sentinels were placed 
along every passage of the palace, and, that they might have their 
prisoners constantly in sight, the door of every room was kept 
open day and night. The queen was not allowed even to close 
her bed-chamber, and a soldier was placed so as at all times to 
command a sight of the whole room ; the only moment that the 
door was permitted to be shut being a short period each morning 
while she was dressing. 

But after a time she rallied, and even began again to think the 
future not wholly desperate. She always looked at the most 
promising side of affairs, and the first shock of the anguish felt 
at Varennes had scarcely passed away, when, with irrepressible 
sanguineness, she began to look around her and search for some 
foundation on which to build fresh hopes. She even thought 
that she had found it in the divisions which were becoming daily 
more conspicuous in the Assembly itself. She had yet to learn 
that at such times violence always overpowers moderation, and 
that the worse men are, the more certain are they to obtain the 
upper hand. 

The divisions among her enemies were indeed so furious as to 
justify at one time the expectation that one party would destroy 
the other. The Jacobins summoned a vast meeting, whose mem- 
bers they fixed beforehand at a hundred thousand citizens, to 
meet on Sunday, the iVth of July, to petition the Assembly to 
dethrone the king. On the appointed day, long before the hour 
fixed for the meeting, a fierce riot took place, the causes and even 
the circumstances of which have never been clearly ascertained, 
but which soon became marked with scenes of extraordinary vio- 
lence. La Fayette, who tried to crush it in the bud, was pelted 
and fired at. Bailly hung out the red flag, the token of martial 
law being proclaimed, at the Hotel de Ville. The mob pelted 
the National Guard. The National Guard, too much exasperated 
and alarmed to obey La Fayette's order to fire over the people's 
heads, at one volley shot down a hundred of the rioters. The 
Jacobin leaders fled in alarm. Robespierre, who had been one of 
the chief organizers of the tumult, being also one of the basest of 
cowards, was the most terrified of all, and fled for shelter to his 
admirer, of congenial spirit, Madame Roland, whose protection he 
afterward repaid by sending her to the scaffold. The riot was 
quelled, and the officers of the National Guard urged La Fayette 
to take advantage of the opportunity, and lead them on to close 

23 



354 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

by force the club of the Jacobins, and another of equal ferocity, 
known as the Cordeliers,* lately founded by the fiercest of the 
Jacobins, Danton, and a butcher named Legendre, who boasted of 
his ferocity as his only title to interfere in the Government. If 
he had been honest in his professions of a desire to save the mon- 
archy. La Fayette would have adopted their advice, for it had al- 
ready become plain to every one that the existence of these clubs 
was incompatible with the preservation of the kingly authority ;. 
but his imbecile love of popularity made him fear to offend even 
such a body of miscreants as the followers of Danton and Robes- 
pierre, and he professed to believe that he had given them a suffi- 
cient lesson, and had so convinced them of his power to crush 
them that they would be grateful to him for sparing them, and 
learn to act with more moderation in future. 

The decision of the Assembly also on the question of the 
king's conduct in leaving Paris was not without its encourage- 
ment to one of the queen's disposition. She herself had been 
interrogated by commissioners appointed by the Assembly to in- 
quire into the circumstances connected with the transaction, and 
her statement has been preserved. With her habitual anxiety to 
conceal from others the king's incapacity and want of resolution, 
she represented herself as acting wholly under his orders. " I de- 
clare," said she, " that as the king desired to quit Paris with his 
children, it would have been unnatural for me to allow any thing 
to prevent me from accompanying him. During the last two 
years, I have sufficiently proved, on several occasions, that I should 
never leave him ; and what in this instance determined me most 
was the assurance which I felt that he would never wish to quit 
the kingdom. If he had had such a desire, all my influence 
would have been exerted to dissuade him from such a purpose."f 
And she proceeded further to exculpate all their attendants. She 
declared that Madame de Tourzel, who had been ill for some 
weeks, had never received her orders till the very day of the de- 
parture. She knew not whither she was going, and had taken no 
luggage, so that the queen herself had been forced to lend her 
some clothes. The three Body-guards were equally ignorant, and 
the waiting-women. Though it was true, she said, that the Count 



* Lamartine calls the Cordeliers the Club of Coups-de-main, as he calls the 
Jacobins the Club of Radical Theories. — Histoire des Girondins, xvi., p. 4. 
f Dr. Moore, ii., p. 372 ; Chambrier, ii., p. 142. 



OPINION OF FOREIGN NATIONS. 355 

and Countess de Provence had gone to Flanders, they had only 
taken that course to avoid interfering with the relays which were 
required by the king, and had intended to rejoin him at Montme- 
dy. The king's own statement tallied with hers in every respect, 
though it was naturally more explicit as to his motives and inten- 
tions ; and his innocence of purpose was so irresistibly demon- 
strated, that, though Robespierre, in the most sanguinary speech 
which he had ever yet uttered, demanded that he should be 
brought to trial, not concealing his desire that it should end in 
his condemnation ; and though Petion, and a wretch named Bu- 
zot, a warm admirer and intimate friend of Madame Roland, de- 
manded his deposition and the proclamation of a republic. Bar- 
nave had no difficulty in carrying the Assembly with him in op- 
position to their violence ; and it was finally resolved that noth- 
ing which had happened furnished grounds for taking proceed- 
ings against any member of the royal family. It was ordered at 
the same time that De Bouille should be arrested and impeached ; 
but when he found that nothing could be effected for the deliv- 
erance of the king, he had fled across the frontiers, and was safe 
from their malice. 

Meanwhile, the unconstitutional and unprecedented violence 
which had been offered to the king naturally created the greatest 
excitement and indignation in all foreign countries. A month 
before the late expedition, the emperor had addressed a formal 
note to M. Montmorin, as Secretary of State, declaring that he 
Avould regard any ill-treatment of his sister as an injury done to 
himself ;* and nowf the chivalrous Gustavus of Sweden proposed 
to address to the Assembly a joint letter of warning from all the 
sovereigns of Europe, to declare that they would all make com- 
mon cause with the King of France if any attempt were made to 
offer him further violence. But even the Austrian ministers re- 
garded such a declaration as more likely to aggravate than to 
diminish the dangers of those whom it was designed to serve ; 
and the queen herself preferred waiting for a time, to see the re- 
sult of the strife between the rival parties in the Assembly. 

The Assembly was at this time fully occupied with the comple- 
tion of the Cftnstitution, a work for which it had but little time 
left, since its own duration had been fixed at two years, which 

* Mercy to Marie Antoinette, May 16th, Feuillet de Conches, ii., p. 60. 
\ Bid., p. 140. 



356 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

would expire in September ; and also with the consideration of a 
question concerning the composition of the next Assembly which 
had been lately brought forward, and on which the queen was un- 
fortunately misled into using her influence to procure a decision 
which was undoubtedly, in its eventual consequences, as disas- 
trous to the king's fortunes as it was irreconcilable with common 
sense. Robespierre brought forward a resolution that no mem- 
bers of the existing Assembly should be eligible for a seat in that 
by which it was to be replaced. It was in reality a resolution to 
exclude from the new Assembly not only every one who had any 
parliamentary or legislative experience, but also all the adherents 
or friends of the throne, and to place the coming elections wholly 
in the power of the Jacobins, Robespierre was willing to be ex- 
cluded himself from a conviction that, with such an Assembly as 
would surely be returned, the Jacobin Club would practically ex- 
ercise ah the power of the State. But the Constitutional party, 
who saw that it was aimed at them, opposed it with great vigor ; 
and would probably have been able to defeat it if the Royalist 
members who still retained their seats would have consented to 
join them. Unhappily the queen took the opposite view. With 
far more acuteness, penetration, and fertility of imagination than 
are usually given to women, or to men either, she had still in some 
degree the defect common to her sex, of being prone to confine 
her views to one side of a question ; and to overrule her reason 
by her feelings and prejudices. Though she acknowledged the 
service which Barnave had rendered by defeating those who had 
wished to bring the king and herself to trial, she, nevertheless, 
still regarded the Constitutionalists in general with deep distrust 
as the party which desired to lower, and had lowered, the author- 
ity and dignity of the throne ; and, viewing the whole Assembly 
with not unnatural antipathy, she fancied that one composed 
wholly of new members could not possibly be more unfriendly to 
the king's person and government, and might probably be far 
better disposed towai'd them. She easily brought the king to 
adopt her views, and exerted the whole of her influence to secure 
the passing of the decree, sending agents to canvass those depu- 
ties who were opposed to it. With the Royalist members, the 
Extreme Right, her voice was law, and, by the unnatui-al union 
of them and the Jacobins, the resolution was carried. 

It is the more singular that she should have been willing thus, 
as it were, to proscribe the members of the present Assembly, be- 



HER VIEWS ON THE STATE OF PARTIES. 357 

cause, in a very remarkable letter which she wrote to her brother 
the emperor at the end of July, she founds the hopes for the 
future, which she expresses with a degree of sanguineness which 
can hardly fail to be thought strange when the events of June 
are remembered, on the conduct of the Assembly itself. The let- 
ter is too long to quote at full length, but a few extracts from it 
will help us in our task of forming a proper estimate of her char- 
acter, from the unreserved exposition which it contains of her 
feelings, both past and present, with her views and hopes for the 
future, even while she keenly appreciates the diflSculties of the 
king's position ; and from the unabated eagerness for the welfare 
of France which it displays in every reflection and suggestion. 
That she still considers the imperial alliance of great importance 
to the welfare of both nations will surprise no one. The suspen- 
sion of the royal authority which the Assembly had decreed on 
the 26th of June had been removed on the decision that the king 
was not to be proceeded against. Yet her first sentence shows 
that she was still subjected to cruel and lawless tyranny, which 
even hindered her correspondence with her own relations. A 
queen might have expected to be able to write in security to an- 
other sovereign ; a sister to a brother ; but La Fayette and those 
in authority regarded the rights of neither royalty nor kindred. 

"A friend, my dear brother, has undertaken to convey this let- 
ter to you, for I myself have no means of giving you news of my 
health. I will not enter into details of what preceded our de- 
parture. You have already known all the reasons for it. During 
the events which befell us on our journey, and in the situation in 
which we were immediately after our return to Paris, I was pro- 
foundly distressed. After I recovered from the first shock of the 
agitation which they produced, I set myself to work to reflect on 
what I had seen ; and I have endeavored to form a clear idea of 
what, in the actual state of affairs, the king's interests are, and 
what the conduct is which they prescribe to me. My ideas have 
been formed by a combination of motives which I will proceed 
to explain to you. 

"....The situation of affairs here has greatly changed since 
our journey. The National Assembly was divided into a multi- 
tude of parties. Far from order being re-established, every day 
seemed to diminish the power of the law. The king, deprived of 
all authority, did not even see any possibility of recovering it on 
the completion of the Constitution through the influence of the 



358 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

Assembly, since that body itself was every day losing more the 
respect of the people. In short, it was impossible to see any end 
to disorder. 

" To-day, circumstances present much more hope. The men 
who have the greatest influence in affairs are united together, and 
hav^e openly declared for the preservation of the monarchy and 
the king, and for the re -establishment of order. Since their 
union, the efforts of the seditious have been defeated by a great 
superiority of strength. The Assembly has acquired a consist- 
ency and an authority in every part of the kingdom, which it 
seems disposed to use to establish the observance of the laws and 
to put an end to the Revolution. At this moment the most mod- 
erate men, who have never ceased to be opposed to revolutionary 
acts, are uniting, because they see in union the only prospect of 
enjoying in safety what the Revolution has left them, and of put- 
ting an end to the troubles of which they dread the continuance. 
In short, every thing seems at this moment to contribute to put 
an end to the agitations and commotions to which France has 
been given over for the last two years. This termination of 
them, however, natural and possible as it is, will not give the Gov- 
ernment the degree of force and authority which I regard as nec- 
essary ; but it will preserve us from greater misfortunes ; it will 
place us in a situation of greater tranquillity, and, when men's 
minds have recovered from their present intoxication, perhaps 
they will see the usefulness of giving the royal authority a great- 
er range. 

" This, in the course which matters are now taking, is what one 
can foresee for the future, and I compare this result with what we 
could promise ourselves from a line of conduct opposed to the 
wishes which the nation displays. In that case I see an absolute 
impossibility of obtaining any thing except by the employment 
of a superior force ; and on this last supposition I will say noth- 
ing of the personal dangers which the king, my son, and I myself 
may have to encounter. But what could be the consequences 
but some enterprise, the issue of which is uncertain, and the ulti- 
mate result of which, whatever it might be, presents disasters such 
as one can not endure to contemplate? The army is in a bad 
state from want of leaders and of subordination ; but the king- 
dom is full of armed men, and their imagination is so inflamed that 
it is impossible to foresee what they might do, and the number 
of victims who might be sacrificed It is impossible, when 



HER VIEWS FOR THE FUTURE. 359 

one sees what is going on here, to calculate what might be the 
effects of their despair. I only see, in the events which might 
arise out of such an attempt, but very doubtful prospects of suc- 
cess, and the certainty of great miseries for every one 

"If the Revolution should be terminated in the manner of 
■which I have spoken, then it will be important that the king shall 
acquire, in a solid manner, the confidence and consideration which 
alone can give a real strength to the royal authority. No means 
are so well calculated to procure them for him as the influence 
which we might have over one of your resolutions* which would 
contribute to insure peace to France, and to dispel disquietude, 
which are so much the more grievous for the whole world, that 
they are among the principal obstacles to the re-establishment of 
public tranquillity. The share which in that way we should have 
in the termination of these troubles would win over to us all men 
of moderate temper, while the others, especially the chiefs of the 
Revolution, would attach themselves to us because of the sincere 
and efficacious inclination which we should have shown to con- 
duct matters to the end, which they all wish for. Your own in- 
terests seem to me also to have a place in this system of conduct. 
The National Assembly, before separating, will desire, in concert 
with the king, to determine the alliances to which France is to 
continue attached ; and the power of Europe which shall be the 
first to recognize the Constitution, after it has been accepted by 
the king, will undoubtedly be the one with which the Assembly 
will be inclined to form the closest alliance ; and to these general 
views I might add the means which I myself have to dispose 
men's minds to maintain this alliance — means which will be ex- 
tremely strengthened, if you share my view of the present cir- 
cumstances. 

" I can not doubt that the chiefs of the Revolution, who have 
supported the king in the last crisis, will be desirous to assure to 
him the consideration and respect necessary to the exercise of his 
authority, and that they will see in a close alliance of France with 
that power with which he is connected by ties of blood, a means 
of combining his dignity with the interests of the nation, and in 
that way of consolidating and strengthening a Constitution of 
which they all agree that the majesty of the king is one essential 
foundation. 

* A resolution, that is, to recognize the Constitution. 



360 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

" I do not know if, independently of all other reasons, the kin^^ 
will not find in that feeling and in the inclinations of the nation, 
when it has recovered its calmness, more deference, and a temper 
more favorable to him, than he could expect from the majority of 
those Frenchmen who are at present out of the kingdom."* 

And a letter which she wrote to Mercy a fortnight later is per- 
haps even more worthy of attention, as supplying abundant proof, 
if proof were needed, of the good-will and good faith which were 
the leading principles of herself and the king in all their dealings' 
with the Assembly. Since her letter to her brother, matters had 
been proceeding rapidly. She had found some means of treat- 
ing more directly than on any previous occasion, not only with 
Barnave, but with the far more unscrupulous A. Lameth; and the 
Assembly had made such progress in completing the Constitu- 
tion that it was on the point of submitting it to the king for his 
acceptance. We have seen in Mai'ie Antoinette's letter to the 
emperor that she was convinced of the necessity of Louis signify- 
ing that acceptance, and she adhered to that view of the policy to 
be pursued, though the last touches given co the Constitution had 
rendered many of its articles far more unreasonable than she had 
anticipated, and though the great English statesman, Burke, 
whose " Reflections " of the preceding year had naturally caused 
him to be regarded as one of the ablest advisers on whom she 
could rely, forwarded to her an earnest exhortation to induce her 
husband to reject it. He implored her "to have nothing to do 
with traitors." Using the argument which, to one so sensitive 
for her honor as Marie Antoinette, was well calculated to exert an 
almost irresistible influence over her mind, he declared that " her 
resolution at this most critical moment was to decide whether 
her glory was to be maintained, and her distresses to cease, or 
whether " (aiid he begged pardon for ever mentioning such an al- 
ternative) " shame and afiiiction were to be her portion for the 
rest of her life ;" and he declared that " if the king should accept 
the Constitution, both king and queen were ruined forever." 

The great writer was, as in more than one other instance of his 
career, too earnest in his conviction that principles were at stake 
in the course which he recommended, to consider whether that 
course were safe for those on whom he urged it, or even practi- 
cable. But Marie Antoinette, as one on whose decision the very 

. * Arneth, p. 188; Feuillet de Conches, iL, p. 186. 



HER OPINION OP THE CONSTITUTION. 361 

lives of her husband and her child might depend, felt bound to 
consider, in the first place, how far her adoption of the advice thus 
tendered might endanger both ; and, accordingly, while express- 
ing to Mercy the fall extent of her repugnance to the system of 
government, if indeed it deserved the name of a system, which 
the new Constitution had framed, she shows that her disapproval 
of it has in no degree led her to change her mind on the practical 
question of the course which the king should pursue. She justi- 
"fies her decision to Mercy in a most elaborate letter, in which the 
whole position is surveyed with admirable good sense.* 

" Our position is this : We are now on the point of having the 
Constitution brought to us for acceptance. It is in itself so mon- 
strous that it is impossible that it should be long maintained. 
But,. in the position in which we are, can we risk refusing it? 
No ; and I will prove it to you. I am not speaking of the per- 
sonal dangers which we should run. We have fully shown by 
the journey which we undertook two months ago that we do not 
take our own safety into account when the public welfare is at 
stake. But this Constitution is so intrinsically bad that it can 
only acquire consistence from any resistance which we might op- 
pose to it. Our business, therefore, is to take a middle course, 
which may save our honor, and may put us in such a position 
that the people may come back to us when once their eyes are 
opened, and they have become weary of the existing state of af- 
fairs. I think also that it is necessary that, when they have pre- 
sented the act to the king, he should keep it by him a few days ; 
for he is not supposed to know what it is till it has been present- 
ed to him in all legal form ; and that then he should summon 
the Commissioners before him, not to make any comments, not 
to demand any alterations, which perhaps might not be admitted, 
and which would be interpreted as an admission that he approved 
of the basis, but to declare that his opinions are not changed; 
that, in his declaration of the 20th of June,f he proved the ab- 
solute impossibility of governing under the new system, and that 

* The letter took several days to write, and was so interrupted that portions 
of it have three diiferent dates affixed, August 16th, 21st, 26th. Mercy's let- 
ter, which incloses Burke's memorial, is dated the 20th, from London, so that 
the first portion of the queen's letter can not be regarded as an intentional 
answer to Burke's arguments, though it is so, as embodying all the reasons 
which influenced the queen. 

f The manifesto which he left behind him when starting for Montmedy. 



362 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

he is still of the same mind; but that, for the sake of the tran- 
quillity of his country, he sacrifices himself ; and that, as his peo- 
ple and the nation stake their happiness on his accepting it, he 
does not hesitate to signify that acceptance ; and that the sight of 
their happiness will speedily make him forget the cruel and bitter 
griefs which they have inflicted on him and on his family. 

" But if we take this line we must adhere to it ; and, above 
all things, we must avoid any step which can create distrust, and 
we must move on, so to say, always with the law in our hand. I 
promise you that this is the best way to give them an early dis- 
gust at the Constitution. The mischief is, that for this we shall 

want an able and a trustworthy ministry Several people 

urge us to reject the act, and the king's brothers press upon him 
every day that it is indispensable to do so, and affirm that we shall 
be supported. By whom ?" And she proceeds to examine the 
situation and policy of Spain, of the empire of England, and of 
Prussia, to prove that from none of them is there any hope of 
active aid, while to trust to the emigrants would be the worst ex- 
pedient of all, because "we should then fall into a new slavery 
worse than the first, since, while we should appear to be in some 
degree indebted to them, we should not be able to extricate our- 
selves from their toils. They already prove this when they re- 
fuse to listen to the persons who are in our confidence, on the 
pretext that they do not trust them, while they seek to force us 
to give ourselves up to M. de Calonne, who, I fear, in all that he 
does is guided by nothing but his own ambition, his private en- 
mities, and his habitual levity, thinking every thing he wishes not 
only possible, but already done. 

" . . . . One circumstance worthy of remark is that in all these 
discussions on the Constitution the people take no interest, and 
concern themselves solely about their own affairs, limiting their 
wishes to having a Constitution and getting rid of the aristo- 
crats As to our acceptance of the Constitution, it is im- 
possible for any thinking being to avoid seeing that we are not 
free. But it is essential that we should not awaken a suspicion 
of our feelings in the monsters who surround us. Let me know 
where the emperor's forces are and what is their present position. 
In every case the foreign powers can alone save us. The army 
is lost. There is no money. There is no bond, no curb which 
can restrain the populace, which is everywhere armed. Even the 
chiefs of the Revolution, when they wish to speak of order, are 



HER RELIANCE ON FOREIGN POWERS. 363 

not listened to. This is tlie deplorable condition in which we are 
placed. Add that we have not a single friend — that every one be- 
trays us, some out of hatred, others out of weakness or ambition. 
In short, I actually am reduced to dread the day when they will 
have the appearance of giving us a kind of freedom. At least, 
in the state of nullity in which we are at present, no one can 

reproach us You know the character of the person with 

whom I have to do.* At the last moment, when one seems to 
have convinced him, an argument, a word, will make him change 
his mind before any one suspects it. This is the reason why 
many expedients can not even be attempted." 

On the 21st she hears that the Charter will be presented at the 
end of the week, and she repeats her fears that the conduct of the 
emigrants may involve them in fresh troubles. " It is essential 
that the French, and most especially the brothers of the king, 
should keep in the background, and allow the foreign princes to 
act by themselves. But no entreaty, no argument from us will 
induce them to do so. The emperor must insist upon it. It is 
the only way in which he can serve us. You know yourself the 
mischievous wrong-headedness and evil designs of the emigrants. 
The cowards ! after having abandoned us, they seek to make us 
expose ourselves alone to danger, and serve nothing but their 
interests. I do not accuse the king's brothers ; I believe their 
hearts and their intentions to be pure, but they are surrounded 
and guided by ambitious men who will ruin them after having 
first ruined us.". ... On the 26th she hears that it will still be 
a week before the Constitution is brought to the king. " It is 
impossible, considering our position, that the king should refuse 
to accept it. You may depend upon this being true, since I say 
it. You know my character sufficiently to be sure that it would 
incline me rather to a noble and bold course. We have no re- 
source but in the foreign powers. They must come to our as- 
sistance ; but it is the emperor who must put himself at the head 

of every thing, and manage every thing I declare to you 

that matters are now come to such a state that it would be bet- 
ter to be king of a single province than of a kingdom so abandon- 
ed and disordered as this. I shall endeavor, if I can, lo send the 
emperor information on all these matters. But, in the mean 
time, do you tell him all that you consider necessary to prove to 

* The king. 



364 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

him that we have no longer any resource except in him, and that 
our happiness, our existence, and that of my child depend on him 
alone, and on his prudence and promptitude in action."* 

And, howev^er she from time to time caught at momentary 
hopes arising from other sources, the only one on which she placed 
any permanent reliance were the affection and power of her broth- 
er ; and that hope, in the course of the winter, was cut from under 
her by his death.f Yet so correct was her judgment and appre- 
ciation of sound political principles, or, perhaps we might say, 
so keen was her sense of what was due to the independence and 
dignity of France, in spite of its present disloyalty, that a report 
that the emperor and Prussia had, by implication, claimed a right 
to dictate to France in matters of her internal government drew 
from her a warm remonstrance. As sovereign and brother she 
conceived that Leopold had a right to interfere to insure the safe- 
ty of his own sister and of a brother sovereign ; but she never 
desired him to interpose for any other object. From her child- 
hood, as we have seen more than once, she had learned to re- 
gard the Prussian character and Prussian designs with abhor- 
rence. And in a letter to Mercy of the 12th of September, after 
expressing an earnest hope that the emperor will not allow him- 
self to be guided by " the cunning of Calonne, and the detestable 
policy of Prussia," she adds, " It is said here that in the agree- 
ment signed at Pilnitz,;]; the two powers engage never to permit 
the new French Constitution to be established. There certainly 
are things which foreign powers have a right to oppose, but, as 
to what concerns the internal laws of a country, every nation has 
a right to adopt those which suit it. They would be wrong, 
therefore, to intervene in such a matter ; and all the world 

* Feuillet de Conches, ii., p. 228 ; Arneth, p. 203. 

f The Emperor Leopold died March 1st, 1792. 

\ The declaration of Pilnitz, drawn up by the emperor and the King of 
Prussia at a personal interview, August 21st, 1791, did not in express words 
denounce the new Constitution (which, in fact, they had not seen), but, after 
declaring " the situation of the King of France to be a matter of common in- 
terest to all European sovereigns," and expressing a hope that " the reality of 
that interest will be duly appreciated by the other powers whose assistance 
they invoke," they propose that those other powers shall employ, in conjunc- 
tion with their majesties, the most efficacious means, in order to enable the 
King of France to consolidate in the most perfect liberty the foundation of a 
monarchical government, comformable alike to the rights of sovereigns and 
the well-being of the French nation." — Alison, ch. ix., § 90. 



HER SENSE OF HER DIFFICULTIES. 365 

would see in such, an act a proof of the intrigues of the emi- 
grants."* 

She proceeds to tell him that all is settled. The king had 
adopted the line which she had marked out for him in her former 
letter. The Constitution had been presented to him on the 3d of 
September. He had taken a few days to consider it, not with 
the idea of proposing the slightest alteration, but in order to avoid 
the appearance of acting under compulsion ; and, on the same 
day on which she wrote to Mercy, he was drawing up a letter to 
the Assembly, to announce his intention of visiting the Assembly 
to give it his royal assent in due form. But, though she would 
not have had him act otherwise, she can not announce this appar- 
ent termination of the contest without some natural expressions 
of grief and indignation. 

" At last the die is cast. All that we have now to do is to reg- 
ulate the future progress and conduct of affairs as circumstances 
may permit. I only wish that others would regulate their con- 
duct by mine. But even in our own inner circle we have great 
difficulties and great conflicts. Pity me: I assure you that it 
requires more courage to support the condition in which I am 
placed than to encounter a pitched battle. And the more so that 
I do not deceive myself, and that I see nothing but misery in the 
want of energy shown by some, and the evil designs of others. 
My God ! is it possible that, endowed as I am with force of char- 
acter, and feeling as I do so thoroughly the blood which runs in 
ray veins, I should yet be destined to pass my days in such an 
age and with such men ? But, for all this, never believe that my 
courage is deserting me. Not for my own sake, but for the 
sake of my child, I will support myself, and I will fulfill to the 
end my long and painful career. I can no longer see what I am 
writing. Farewell."f 

Tears, we may suppose, were blinding her eyes, in spite of all 
her fortitude. There was no exaggeration in her declaration to 
the Empress Catherine of Russia, with whom at this time she was 
in frequent communication, that the " distrust which was shown 
by all around them was a moral and continual death, a thousand 
times worse than that physical death which was a release from all 
miseries."! And in the same letter she explains that to remove 

* Arneth, p. 208. f Ibid., p. 210; Feuillet de Conches, ii., p. 325. 

X Letter, date December 3d, 1*791. Feuillet de Conches, iv., p. 278. 



366 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

this distrust was one principal object which the king and she 
had in view in all their measures. Yet, in spite of all his conces- 
sions, the week was not to pass without fresh insults being offer- 
ed to the king, which shocked even his phlegmatic apathy. The 
letter which he sent to the Assembly to announce his compliance 
with its wishes was indeed received with acclamations which, if 
not sincere, were at least loud, and apparently unanimous ; and, 
as if in reply to it, La Fayette proposed and carried a motion that 
the Assembly should pass an act of amnesty for all political of- 
fenses ; and a magnificent festival was appointed to be held in 
the Champ de Mars on the following Sunday, in celebration of 
the joyful event. But, after the first brief excitement had passed 
away, the Jacobin faction recovered its ascendency, and contrived 
to make that very festival, which was designed to express the 
gratitude of the nation, an occasion of further humiliation to the 
unhappy Louis. Every arrangement for the day was discussed 
in a spirit of the bitterest disloyalty. When the question was 
raised, which in any other Assembly that ever met in the Avorld 
would have been thought needless, what attitude the members 
were to preserve while the king was taking the prescribed oath to 
observe the Constitution, a hundred voices shouted out that they 
should all keep their seats, and that the king should swear, stand- 
ing and bare-headed ; and when one deputy of high reputation, 
M. Malouet, remonstrated against such a vote, arguing that so to 
treat the chief of the State would be a greater insult to the nation 
than even to himself, a deputy from Brittany cried out that M. 
Malouet and those who thought with him might receive Louis on 
their knees, if they liked, but that the rest of the Assembly should 
be seated. 

And, in accordance with the feeling thus shown, every mark of 
respect was studiously withheld from the unhappy monarch, and 
every care was taken to show him that every deputy considered 
himself his equal. Two chairs exactly similar were provided for 
him and for the president ; and when, after taking the oath and 
affixing his signature to the act, the king resumed his seat, the 
president, who, having to reply to him in a short address, had at 
first risen for that purpose, on seeing that Louis retained his seat, 
sat down beside him, and finished his speech in that position. 
Louis felt the affront. He contained himself while in the hall, 
and while the members were conducting him back to the palace, 
which they presently did amidst the music of military bands and 



TUMULT AT THE THEATRE. 367 

the salutes of artillery. But when his escort had left him, and he 
reached his own apartments, his pride gave way. The queen with 
the dauphin had been present in a box hastily fitted up for her, 
and had followed him back. He felt for her more than for him- 
self. Bursting into tears, he said, "It is all over. You have 
seen my humiliation. Why did I ever bring you into France for 
such degradation?" And the queen, while endeavoring to con- 
sole him, turned to Madame de Campan, who has recorded the 
scene, and dismissed her from her attendance.* " Leave us," she 
said, " leave us to ourselves." She could not bear that even that 
faithful servant should remain to be a witness to the despair and 
prostration of her sovereign. 

The very rejoicings were turned by the agents of the Jacobins 
into occasions for further outrages. The whole city was illumi- 
nated, and the sovereigns yielded to the entreaties of the popular 
leaders, to drive through the streets and the Champs Elysees to 
see the illumination. The populace, who believed the Revolution 
at an end and their freedom secured, cheered them heartily as 
they passed ; but at every cry of " Vive le roi," a stentorian voice, 
close to the royal carriage, shouted out, " Not so : Vive la na- 
tion !" and the queen, though it was plain that the ruffian had 
been hired thus to outrage them, almost fainted with terror at his 
ferocity. A few days afterward, the insults were renewed even 
more pointedly. The royal family went in state to the opera, 
where, before their arrival, the Jacobins had packed the pit with 
a gang of their own hirelings, whose unpowdered hair made them 
conspicuous objects.f The opera was one of Gretry's, "Les 
Evenements Imprevus," in which one of the duets contains the 
line "Ah, comme j'aime ma maitresse." Madame Dugazon, a 
popular singer of the day, as she uttered the words, bowed toward 
the royal box, and instantly the whole pit was in a fury. " No 
mistress for us ! no master! Liberty !" The whole house was in 
an uproar. The king's partisans and adherents replied with loyal 
cheers, " Vive le roi ! Vive la reine !" The pit roared out, " No 
master ! no queen !" and the Jacobins even proceeded to acts of 
violence toward all who refused to join in their cry. Blows were 



* Madame de Campan, ch. xix. 

f " Leurs touffes de cheveux noirs volaient dans la salle, eux seuls k cette 
epoque avaient quitte I'usage de poudrer les cheveux." — Note on the Passage 
hy Madame de Campan, ch. xix. 



0G8 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

struck, and it became necessary to send for a company of the 
Guard to restore order. 

Yet when, on the last day of the month, the king visited the 
Assembly* to declare its dissolution, the president addressed him 
in terras of the most loyal gratitude, affirming that by his accept- 
ance of the Constitution, he had earned the blessings of all fut- 
ure generations; and when he quitted the hall, the populace es- 
corted the royal carriage back to the palace with vociferous cheers. 
Though, in the eyes of impartial observers, this display of return- 
ing good-will was more than counterbalanced when, as the mem- 
bers of the Assembly came out, some of the Royalists and Consti- 
tutionalists were hooted, and some of the fiercest Jacobins were 
greeted with still more enthusiastic acclamations. 

* This first Assembly, as having framed the Constitution, is often called the 
Constituent Assembly ; the second, that which was about to meet, being dis- 
tinguished as the Legislative Assembly. 



COMPOSITION OF THE NEW ASSEMBLY. 369 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Composition of the New Assembly. — Rise of the Girondins. — Their Corrup- 
tion and Eventual Fate. — ^Vergniaud's Motions against the King. — Favora- 
ble Reception of the King at the Assembly, and at the Opera. — Changes in 
the Ministry. — The King's and Queen's Language to M. Bertrand de Mole- 
ville. — The Count de Narbonne. — Petion is elected Mayor of Paris. — Scar- 
city of Money, and Great Hardships of the Royal Family. — Presents arrive 
from Tippoo Sahib. — The Dauphin. — The Assembly passes Decrees against 
the Priests and the Emigrants. — Misconduct of the Emigrants. — Louis re- 
fuses his Assent to the Decrees. — He issues a Circular condemning Emi- 
gration. 

The new Assembly met on the 1st of October, and its compo- 
sition afforded the Royalists, or even tbe Constitutionalists, the 
party that desired to stand by the Constitution -which had just 
been ratified, very little prospect of a re - establishment of tran- 
quillity. The mischievous effect of the vote which excluded 
members of the last Assembly from election was seen in the very 
lists of those who had been returned. In the whole number there 
were scarcely a dozen members of noble or gentle birth ; the num- 
ber of ecclesiastics was equally small ; while property was as little 
represented as the nobility or the Church, It was reckoned that 
of the whole body scarcely fifty possessed two thousand francs a 
year. The general youth of the members was as con.spicuous as 
their poverty ; half of them had hardly attained middle age ; a 
great many were little more than boys. The Jacobins themselves, 
who, before the elections, had reckoned on swaying their decisions 
by terror, could hardly have anticipated a result which would place 
the entire body so wholly at their mercy. 

But what was still more ominous of evil was the rise of a new 
party, known as that of the Girondins, from the circumstance of 
some of its most influential members coming from the Gironde, 
one of the departments which the late Assembly had carved out 
of the old province of Gascony. It was not absolutely a new par- 
ty, since the foundations of it had been laid, during the last two 
months of the old Assembly, by Petion and a low-born pamphlet- 

'24 



370 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

eer named Brissot, who, as editor of a newspaper to which he gave 
the name of Le Patriate Frangais, rivaled the most blood-thirsty 
of the Jacobins in exciting the worst passions of the populace. 
But Petion and Brissot had only sown the seeds. The opening 
of the new Assembly at once gave it growth and vigor, when the 
deputies from the Gironde plunged into the arena of debate, and 
showed an undeniable superiority in eloquence to every other 
party. ' The chiefs, Vergniaud, Gensonne, and Guadet, were law- 
yers who had never obtained any practice. Isnard, the first man 
to make an open profession of atheism in the Assembly, was the 
son of a perfumer in Provence. They were adventurers as utter- 
ly without principle as without resources. And their first thought 
appears to have been to make money of the king's difiiculties, and 
to sell themselves to him. They applied to the Minister of the 
Interior, M. de Lessart, proposing to place the whole of their in- 
fluence at the service of the Government, on condition of his se- 
curing each of them a pension of six thousand francs a month.* 
M. de Lessart would not have objected to buy them, but he thought 
the price which they set upon themselves too high ; and as they 
adhered to their demand, the negotiation went off, and they re- 
solved to revenge themselves on his royal master with all the mal- 
ice of disappointed rapacity. 

As none of them had any force of character, they fell under the 
influence of the wife of one of their number, a small manufact- 
urer, named Roland, the same who, as we have already seen, was 
the first to raise the cry of blood in France, and to recommend the 
assassination of the king and queen while they were still in fancied 
security at Versailles. Under the direction of this fierce woman, 
whose ferocity was rendered more formidable by her undoubted 
talents, the Girondins began an internecine war with the king, who 
had refused them the wages which they had asked. They planned 
and carried out the sanguinary attacks on the palace in the summer 
of the next year. They brought Louis to the scaffold by the una- 
nimity of their votes. Yet it would have been more fortunate for 
themselves as well as for him had they been less exorbitant in their 

* " Memoires Particuliers,".etc., par A. F. Bertrand de Moleville, i., p. 355. 
Brissot, Isnard, Vergniaud, Guadet, and an infamous ecclesiastic, the Abbe Fau- 
chet, are those whom he particularly mentions, adding : " Mais M. de Lessart 
trouva que c'etait les payer trop cher, et comme ils ne voulurent rien rabattre 
de leur demande, cette negociation n'eut aucune suite, et ne produisit d'autre 
effet que d'aigrir davantage ces cinq deputes contre ce niinistre." 



INSOLENCE OF THE OIBONDINS. 371 

demands, and had they connected themselves with the Government 
as they desired. For though they succeeded in their treason, 
though Madame Eoland saw the accomplishment of her wish in 
the murder of the king and queen, their success was equally fatal 
to themselves. Almost all of them perished on the same scaffold 
to which they had consigned their virtuous sovereigns, meeting a 
fate in one respect worse even than theirs, from the infamy of the 
names which they have left behind them. 

Yet for a few days it seemed as if their malignity would miss 
its aim. They did not wait a single day before displaying it ; 
but, at the preliminary meeting of the Assembly, before it was 
opened for the dispatch of business, Vergniaud proposed to de- 
clare it illegal to speak of the king as his majesty, or to address 
him as " sire ;" while another deputy, named Couthon, who at 
first belonged to the same party, though he afterward joined the 
Jacobins, carried a motion that, when Louis came to open the 
Assembly, the president should occupy the place of honor, and 
the second seat should be allotted to the sovereign. 

Still, for a moment it seemed as if they had overshot their mark, 
and as if the more loyal party would be able to withstand and 
defeat them. The Assembly itself was compelled to repeal its 
recent votes, since Louis, whom indignation for once inspired 
with greater firmness than he usually displayed, refused to open 
the new Assembly in person unless he were to be received with 
the honors to which his rank entitled him. The offensive reso- 
lutions were canceled ; and, when he had therefore opened the 
session in a dignified and conciliatory speech which was chiefly 
of his own composition, the president, M. Pastoret, a member of 
the Constitutional party, replied in language which was not only 
respectful, but affectionate. The Constitution, he said, had given 
the king friends in those who were formerly only styled his sub- 
jects. The Assembly and the nation felt the need of his love. 
As the Constitution had rendered him the greatest monarch in the 
world, so his attachment to it would place him among the kings 
most beloved by their people. 

And it seemed as if the Parisians in general shared to the full 
the loyal sentiments uttered by M. Pastoret. Writing the same 
week to her brother, Marie Antoinette, with a confidence which 
could only spring from a sincere attachment to the whole nation, 
reiterated her old opinion that " the good citizens and good peo- 
ple had always in their hearts been friendly to the king and her- 



372 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

self;"* and expressed her belief that since the acceptance of the 
Constitution the people " had again learned to trust them." She 
was " far from giving herself up to a blind confidence. She 
knew that the disaffected had not abandoned their treasonable 
purposes ; but, as the king and she herself were resolved to unite 
themselves in sincere good faith to the people, it was impossible 
but that, when their real feelings were known, the bulk of the 
people should return to them. The mischief was that the well- 
meaning knew not how to act in concert." 

It did seem as if she were correct in her estimate of the feel- 
ings of the citizens, when, in the evening of the day on which 
Louis had opened the Assembly, the whole royal family, includ- 
ing the two children, went to the opera ; and, as if with express 
design to ratify the loyal language of the president of the As- 
sembly, the whole audience greeted them with a most enthusiast- 
ic reception. More than once they interrupted the performance 
with loud cheers for both king and queen; and as the pleasure of 
children is always an attractive sight, they sympathized especially 
with the delight of the little dauphin, their future king, as they 
all then thought him, who, being new to such a spectacle, only 
took his eyes off the stage to imitate the gestures of the actors to 
his mother, and draw her attention to them. 

In more than one of her letters the queen had vehemently de- 
plored the want of a stronger ministry than of late had been in 
the king's service. It was a natural complaint, though in fact 
the ability or want of ability displayed by the ministers was a 
matter of but slight practical importance, so completely had the 
Assembly engrossed the whole power of the State ; but in the 
course of the autumn some changes were made, one of which for 
a time certainly added to the comfort of the sovereigns. M. 
Montmorin retired; M. de Lessart was transferred to his office; 
and M. Bertrand de Moleville, who was entirely new to official 
life, became the minister of marine. The whole kingdom did 
not contain a man more attached to the king and queen. But he 
combined statesman-like prudence with his loyalty ; and his con- 
duct before he took office elicited a very remarkable proof of the 
singleness of mind and purpose with which the king and queen 
had accepted the Constitution. M. Bertrand had previously re- 

* Feuillet de Conches, ii., p. 414, date October 4th : " Je pense qu'au fond 
le bon bourgeois et le bon peuple ont toujours ete bien pour nous." 



GOOD FAITH OF LOUIS. 373 

fused office, and was very unwilling to take it now ; and lie 
frankly told Louis that he could not hope to be of any real serv- 
ice to him unless he knew the plans which the king might have 
formed with respect to the Constitution, and the line of conduct 
which he desired his ministers to observe on the subject ; and 
Louis told him distinctly that though " he was far from regard- 
ing the Constitution as a masterpiece, and though he thought it 
easy to reform it advantageously in many particulars, yet he had 
sworn to observe it as it was, and that he was bound to be, and 
resolved to be, strictly faithful to his oath ; the more so because 
it seemed to him that the most exact observance of the Consti- 
tution was the surest method to lead the nation to understand it 
in all its bearings ; when the people themselves would perceive 
the character of the changes in it which it was desirable to 
make." 

M. Bertrand expressed his warm approval of the wisdom of 
such a policy, but thought it so important to know how far the 
queen coincided in her husband's sentiments that he ventured to 
put the question to his majesty. The king assured him that he 
had been speaking her sentiments as well as his own, and that he 
should hear them from her own lips ; and accordingly the queen 
immediately granted the new minister an audience, in which, after 
expressing, with her habitual grace and kindness, her feeling that, 
by accepting office at such a time, he was laying both the king 
and herself under a personal obligation, she added, " The king has 
explained to you his intentions with respect to the Constitution ; 
do not you think that the only plan for him to follow is to be 
faithful to his oath?" "Undoubtedly, madame." "Well, you 
may depend upon it that nothing will make us change. Have 
courage, M. Bertrand ; I hope that, with patience, firmness, and 
consistency, all is not yet lost."* 

Nor was M. Bertrand the only one of the ministers who re- 
ceived proofs of the resolution of the queen to adhere steadily 
to the Constitution. There was also a new minister of war, the 
Count de Narbonne, as firmly attached to the persons of the sov- 
ereigns as M. Bertrand himself, though in political principle more 

* "Memoires Particuliers," etc., par A. F. Bertrand de Moleville, i., p. 10- 
12. It furnishes a striking proof of the general accuracy of Dr. Moore's in- 
formation, that he, in his " View " (ii., p. 439), gives the same account of this 
conversation, his work being published above twenty years before that of M. 
Bertrand de Moleville. 



374 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

inclined to the views of the ConstitutionaUsts than to those of 
the extreme Royalists. He was likewise a man of considerable 
capacity, eloquent and fertile in resources ; but he was ambitious 
and somewhat vain ; and he was so elated at the approval ex- 
pressed by the Assembly of a report on the military resources of 
the kingdom which he laid before it soon after his appointment, 
that he obtained an audience of the queen, the object of which 
was to convince her that the only means of saving the State was 
to confer on a man of talent, energy, sagacity, and activity, who 
enjoyed the confidence of the Assembly and of the nation, the 
post of prime minister ; and he admitted that he intended to des- 
ignate himself by this description. Marie Antoinette, though 
fully aware of the desirableness of having a single man of ability 
and firmness at the head of the administration, was for a moment 
surprised out of her habitual courtesy. She could not forbear a 
smile, and in plain terms asked him " if he were crazy."* But she 
proceeded with her usual kindness to explain to him the imprac- 
ticability of the scheme which he had suggested, and the founda- 
tion of her argument was an explanation that such an appoint- 
ment would be a violation of the Constitution, which forbade the 
king to create any new ministerial office. And the count deserves 
to have it mentioned to his honor that the rebuff which he had 
received in no degree cooled his attachment to the king and 
queen, or the zeal with which he labored for their service. 

We have no information how far the new minister coincided 
in a step which the queen took in the course of November, and 
which is commonly ascribed to her judgment alone. Before its 
dissolution, the late Assembly had broken up the National Guard 
of Paris into separate legions, and had suppressed the appoint- 
ment of commander-in-chief of the forces; and La Fayette, 
whom this measure had left without employment, feeling keenly 
the diminution of his importance, and instigated by the restless- 
ness common to men of moderate capacity, conceived the hope of 
succeeding Bailly in the mayoralty of Paris, which that magis- 
trate was on the point of resigning. 

It had become a post of great consequence, since the extent to 
which the authority of the crown had been pared away tended to 

* "La reine lui repondit par un sourire de pitie, et lui demanda s'il etait 

fou C'est par la reine elle-meme que, le lendemain de cette etrange 

sc^ne, je fus instruit de tous les details que je viens de rapporter." — Ber- 

TRAND DE MOLEVILLE, 1., p. 126. 



LA FAYETTE'S ANIMOSITY TO THE KINO. 375 

make the mayor the absolute dictator of the capital ; and conse- 
quently the Jacobins were anxious to secure the oflSce for one of 
the extreme Revolutionary party, and set up Petion as a rival can- 
didate. The election belonged to the citizens, and, as in the city 
the two parties possessed almost equal strength, it was soon seen 
that the court, which had by no means lost its influence among 
the tradesmen and shop-keepers, had the power of deciding the 
contest in favor of the candidate for whom it should pronounce. 
Marie Antoinette declared for Petion. She knew him to be a 
Jacobin,* but he was so devoid of any reputation for ability that 
she did not fear him. Nor, except that he had behaved with 
boorish disrespect and ill-manners during their melancholy return 
from Varennes, had she any reason for suspecting him of any 
special enmity to the king. 

But La Fayette, though always loud in his professions of loy- 
alty, had never lost an opportunity of offering personal insults to 
both the king and herself. It was to his shameful neglect (to 
put his conduct in the most favorable light) that she justly at- 
tributed the danger to which she had been exposed at Versailles, 
and the compulsion which had been put upon the king to take 
up his residence in Paris ; and, not to mention a constant series 
of petty insults which he had heaped on both Louis and herself, 
and on the Royalists as a body, he had given unmistakable proofs 
of his personal animosity toward the king by his conduct on the 
21st of June, and by the indecent rigor with which he treated 
them both after their return from Varennes. Even when he was 
loudest in the profession of his desire and power to influence the 
Assembly in the king's favor, one of his own friends had told him 
to his face that he was insincere,f and that Louis could not and 
ought not to trust his promises ; and every part of his conduct 
toward the royal pair was stamped with duplicity as well as with 
ill-will. It was not strange, therefore, indeed it was fully consist- 
ent with the honest openness of Marie Antoinette's own charac- 
ter, that she should prefer an open enemy to a pretended friend. 
She even believed what, from the very commencement of the Rev- 
olution, many had suspected, that La Fayette cherished views of 

* She herself called him so on this occasion, and he belonged to the Jaco- 
bin Club ; but he was also one of the Girondin party, of which, indeed, he 
was one of the founders, and it was as a Girondin that he was afterward pur- 
sued to death by Robespierre. 

f Narrative of the Comte Valentin Esterhazy, Feuillet de Conches, iv., p. 40. 



3V6 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

personal ambition, and aimed at reviving the old authority of a 
Maire du Palais over a Roi Faineant.* She therefore directed 
her friends to throw their vs^eight into the scale in favor of Pe- 
tion, who was accordingly elected by a great majority, while the 
marquis, greatly chagrined, retired for a time to his estate in Au- 
vergne. 

The victory, however, was an unfortunate one for the court. 
It contributed to increase the confidence of its enemies ; and, as 
their instinct showed them that it was from the resolution of the 
queen that they had the most formidable opposition to dread, it 
was against her that, from their first entrance into the Assembly, 
Vergniaud and his friends specially exerted themselves ; Vergni- 
aud openly contending that the inviolability of the sovereign, 
which vi^as an article of the new Constitution, applied only to the 
king himself, and in no degree to his consort ; while in the Jac- 
obin and Cordelier Clubs the coarsest libels were poured forth 
against her with unremitting perseverance to stimulate and justi- 
fy the most obscene and ferocious threats. The coarsest rufiians 
in a street quarrel never used fouler language of one another than 
these men of education applied to the pure-minded and magnani- 
mous lady whose sole offense was that she was the wife of their 
kind-hearted king. 

And, in addition to this daily increase of their danger which 
such denunciations could not fail to augment, the royal family 
were now suffering inconveniences which even those whose meas- 
ures had caused them had never designed. They were in the 
most painful want of money. The agitation of the last two 
years had rendered the treasury bankrupt. The paper money, 
which now composed almost the whole circulation of the coun- 
try, was valueless. While, as it was in this paper money (assig- 
nats, as the notes were called, as being professedly secured by as- 
signments on the royal domains, and on the ecclesiastical proper- 
ty which had been confiscated), that the king's civil list was paid, 
at the latter end of each month it was not uncommon for him 
and the queen to be absolutely destitute. It was with great re- 

* The queen spoke plainly to her confidants : " M. de La Fayette will only 
be the Mayor of Paris that he may the sooner become Mayor of the Palace. 
Petion is a Jacobin, a republican ; but he is a fool, incapable of ever becom- 
ing the leader of a party. He would be a nullity as mayor, and, besides, the 
very interest which he knows we take in his nomination may bind him to the 
king." — Lamartine's Histoire des Girondins, vi., p. 22. 



AJ}/' EMBASSY FR03I TIPPOO SAHIB. 377 

luctance that they accepted loans from their loyal adherents, be- 
cause they saw no prospect of being able to repay them ; but had 
they not availed themselves of this resource, they would at times 
have wanted absolute necessaries.* 

The royal couple still kept their health, the king's apathy be- 
ing in this respect as beneficial as the queen's courage : they still 
rode a great deal when the weather was favorable ; and on one 
occasion, at the beginning of 1792, the queen, with her sister-in- 
law and her daughter, went again to the theatre. The opera was 
the same which had been performed at the visit in October ; but 
this time the Jacobins had not been forewarned so as to pack the 
house, and Madame du Gazon's duet was received with enthusi- 
asm. Again, as she sung "Ah, que j'aime ma maitresse !" she bow- 
ed to the royal box, and the audience cheered. As if in reply to 
one verse, " II faut les rendre heureux," " Oui, oui !" with lively una- 
nimity, came from all parts of the house, and the singers were 
compelled to repeat the duet four times. " It is a queer nation 
this of ours," says the Princess Elizabeth, in relating the scene to 
one of her correspondents, " but we must allow that it has very 
charming moments."f 

A somewhat curious episode to divert their minds from these 
domestic anxieties was presented by an embassy from the brave 
and intriguing Sultan of Mysore, the celebrated Tippoo Sahib, who 
sought to engage Louis to lend him six thousand French troops, 
with whose aid he trusted to break down the ascendency which 
England was rapidly establishing in India. Tippoo backed his 
request, in the Oriental fashion, by presents, though not such as, 
in the opinion of M. Bertrand, were quite worthy of the giver or 
of the receiver. To the king he sent some diamonds, but they 
were yellow, ill-cut, and ill-set ; and the rest of the offering was 
composed of a few pieces of embroidered silk, striped cloth, and 
cambric : while the queen's present consisted of nothing more 
valuable than a few bottles of perfume of no very exquisite qual- 
ity, and a few boxes of powdered scents, pastils, and matches. 
The king and queen gave nearly the whole present to M. Bertrand 

* " Elle [Madame d'Ossun, dame d'atours de la reine] m'a dit, il y a trois 
semaines, que le roi et la reine avaient ete neuf jours sans un sou." — Let- 
ter of the Prince de Nassau-Siegen to the Russian Empress Catlierine, Feuillet de 
Conches, iv., p. 316 ; of also Madame de Campan, ch. xxi. 

f Letter of the Princess to Madame de Bombelles, Feuillet de Conches, 
v., p. 267. 



378 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

for his grandchildren, the queen only reserving a bottle of attar of 
rose and a couple of pieces of cambric ; and that chiefly to afford 
a pretext for seeing M. Bertrand once or twice, without his recep- 
tion being imputed to a desire to promote some Austrian intrigue ; 
for the Jacobins had lately revived the clamor against Austrian in- 
fluence with greater vehemence than ever. 

As M. Bertrand had grandchildren, he could well appreciate 
the pleasure of the queen ??,t an incident which closed one of his 
audiences. While he was thus receiving her commands, the little 
dauphin, '' beautiful as an angel," as the minister describes him, 
was capering about the room in high delight, brandishing a wood- 
en sword, a new toy which had just been given him. An attend- 
ant called him to go to supper ; and he bounded toward the door. 
" How is this, my boy ?" said Marie Antoinette, calling him back ; 
" are you going off without making M. Bertrand a bow ?" " Oh, 
mamma," said the little prince, still skipping about, and smiling, 
" that is because I know well that M. Bertrand is one of oar 

friends Good-evening, M. Bertrand," " Is not he a nice 

child ?"* said the queen, after he had left the room. " He is very 
happy to be so young. He does not feel what we suffer, and his 
gayety does us good." Alas ! that which was now perhaps her 
only pleasure — the contemplation of her child's opening grace 
and amiability — before long became even an addition to her af- 
fliction, as the probabilities increased that the madness of the peo- 
ple and the wickedness of their leaders would depriv^e him of the 
inheritance, to preserve which to him was the principal object of 
all her cares and exertions. 

But these moments of gratification were becoming fewer as 
time went on. Each month, each week brought fresh and in- 
creasing anxieties to engross all her thoughts. As the G-irondin 
leaders began to feel their strength, the votes of the Assembly be- 
came more violent. One day it passed a fresh decree against the 
priests, depriving all who refused to take the oath to the new 
ecclesiastical constitution of the stipends for which their former 
preferments had been commuted, placing them under strict su- 
pervision, and declaring them liable to instant banishment if they 
should venture to exercise their functions in private. Another 
day it vented its wrath upon the emigrants, summoning the Count 
de Provence by name to return at once to France ; and, with re- 

* " N'est-il pas bien gentil, mon enfant?" — Memoires Partieuliers, p. 235. 



MISCHIEVOUS CONDUCT OF THE PRINCES. 379 

spect to the rest of tlie body, now very numerous, declaring then- 
conduct in being assembled on the frontier of the kingdom in a 
state of readiness for war in itself an act of treason ; and con- 
demning to death and confiscation of their estates all who should 
fail to return to their native land before a stated day. 

But in these decrees the advocates of violence had for the mo- 
ment gone too far — they had outrun the feelings of the nation. 
The emigrants, indeed, neither deserved nor found sympathy in 
any quarter. The main body of them was at this time settled at 
Coblentz, where their conduct was such that it is hard to say 
whether it were more offensive to their country, more injurious to 
their king, or more discreditable to themselves. They could not 
even act in harmony. The king's two brothers established rival 
courts, with a mistress at the head of each. Madame de Balbi 
still ruled the Count de Provence ; Madame de Polastron was the 
presiding genius of the coterie of the Count d'Artois. The two 
ladies, regarding each other with bitter jealousy, agitated the 
whole town with their rivalries and wranglings, and agreed in 
nothing but in their endeavors to excite some foreign sovereign 
or other to make war upon their native land. It was in vain 
that Louis himself first entreated them, and, when he found his 
entreaties were disregarded, commanded his brothers to return. 
They positively refused obedience to his order, telling him, in 
language which can only be characterized as that of studied in- 
sult, that he was writing under coercion ; that his letter did not 
express his real views, and that " their honor, their duty, even 
their affection for him, alike forbade them to obey him."* The 
queen could not command, but she wrote to them more than one 
letter of most earnest entreaty, and, as the princes founded part 
of their hopes on the co-operation of the Northern sovereigns, 
she wrote also to the empress and to Gustavus, pressing both, and 
especially the King of Sweden,f to restrain them ; but they were 
too headstrong and full of their own projects to listen to her 
entreaties any more than to the king's commands, and did not 
even take the trouble to conceal their negotiations with foreign 
powers, nor their object, which could be nothing but war. 

It was impossible that such conduct steadily pursued by the 



* See two most insolent letters from the Count de Provence and Count 
d'Artois to Louis XVI., Feuillet de Conches, v., pp. 260, 261. 
f Feuillet de Conches, iv., p. 291. 



380 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

king's own brothers could be any thing but most pernicious to 
his cause. It could not fail to excite suspicions of his own good 
faith. It supplied the Jacobins with pretexts for putting fresh 
restraints on his authority ; and it frightened even the Constitu- 
tionalists, since it was plain that civil war must ensue, with, very 
probably, the addition of foreign war also, if these machinations 
of the emigrants were not suppressed. 

Still, these sweeping proscriptions of entire classes were not yet 
to the taste of the nation. Petitions from the country, and even 
one from the department of the Seine, were presented to Louis, 
begging him to refuse his assent to the decree against the priests ; 
and the feeling which they represented was so strong, and the 
reputation of some of the petitioners stood so high for ability and 
influence, that the ministers believed that he could safely refuse 
his sanction to both the votes. Even without their advice he 
would have rejected the decree against the priests, as one absolute- 
ly incompatible with his reverence for religion and its ministers; 
and his conduct on this subject supplies one more striking paral- 
lel to the history of the great English rebellion ; since there can 
hardly be a more precise resemblance between events occurring in 
diiferent ages and different countries than is afforded by the I'e- 
sistance made by Charles to the last vote of the London Parlia- 
ment against the bishops, and this resistance of Louis to the will 
of the Assembly on behalf of the priests, and by the fatal effect 
which, in each case, their conscientious and courageous determina- 
tion had upon the fortunes of the two sovereigns. 

Louis therefore put his veto on both the decrees, with the ex- 
ception of that clause in the act against the emigrants which 
summoned his brothers to return to the kingdom. But, that no 
one might pretend to fancy that he either approved of the con- 
duct of the emigrants or sympathized with their principles or de- 
signs, he issued a circular letter to the governors of the different 
sea-ports, in which he remonstrated most earnestly Avith the sail- 
ors, numbers of whom, as it was reported in Paris, were preparing 
to follow their example. He pointed out in it that those who 
thus deserted their country mistook their duty to that country, 
to him as their king, and to themselves ; that the present aspect 
of the nation, desirous to return to order and to submission to 
the law, removed every pretext for such conduct. He set before 
them his own example, and bid them remain at their posts, as he 
was remaining at his ; and, in language more impressive than that 



LETTERS BESPECTINO THE EMIGRANTS. 381 

of command, he exhorted them not to turn a deaf ear to his 
prayers ; and at the same time he addressed letters to the electors 
of Treves and Mayence, and to the other petty German princes 
whose territories, bordering on the Rhine, were the principal re- 
sort of the emigrants, requiring them to cease to give them shel- 
ter, and announcing that if they should refuse to remove them 
from their dominions he should consider their refusal a sufficient 
ground for war ; while, to show that he did not intend this men- 
ace to be a dead letter, he soon afterward announced to the As- 
sembly that he had ordered a powerful army of a hundred and 
fifty thousand men to be moved toward the frontier, under the 
command of Marshal Luckner, Marshal Rochambeau, and General 
La Fayette, and he invited the members to vote a levy of fifty 
thousand more men to raise the force of the nation to its full 
complement. 



382 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Death of Leopold. — Murder of Gustavus of Sweden. — Violence of Vergniaud. 
— The Ministers resign. — A Girondin Ministry is appointed. — Character of 
Dumouriez. — Origin of the Name Sans-culottes. — Union of Different Parties 
against the Queen. — War is declared against the Empire. — Operations in 
the Netherlands. — Unskillfulness of La Fayette. — The King falls into a 
State of Torpor. — Fresh Libels on the Queen. — Barnave's Advice. — Du- 
mouriez has an Audience of the Queen. — Dissolution of the Constitutional 
Guard. — Formation of a Camp near Paris. — Louis adheres to his Eefusal 
to assent to the Decree against the Priests. — Dumouriez resigns his Office, 
and takes command of the Army. 

War of some kind — foreign war, civil war, or botli combined 
— had apparently become inevitable ; and Marie Antoinette de- 
ceived herself if she thought that the armed congi-ess of sover- 
eigns, for which she was above all things anxious, could lead to 
any other result. In any case, a congress must have produced 
one consequence which she deprecated as much as any other, a 
waste of time, while, as she truly said, her enemies never wasted 
a moment. Nor, with the very different views of the policy to 
be pursued, which the emperor and the King of Prussia entertain- 
ed (Frederick being an advocate of an armed intervention in the 
affairs of France, which Leopold opposed as impracticable, and, if 
practicable, impolitic), was it easy to see how a congress could 
have brought those monarchs to agree on any united system of 
action. But all projects of that kind necessarily fell to the 
ground in consequence of the death of the emperor, which took 
place, after a very short illness, on the 1st of March, 1792 ; and 
before the end of the same month the royal family lost another 
warm friend in Gustavus of Sweden, who was assassinated in the 
very midst of preparations which he confidently hoped might con- 
tribute to deliver his brother sovereign from his troubles. 

Marie Antoinette spoke truly when she said that the enemies 
of the crown never lost time. The very prospect of war increased 
the divisions of the Assembly, since the Jacobins were undisguis- 
edly averse to it. Not one of their body had any reputation for 
skill in arms, so that in the event of war it was evident that the 



THE QUEEN'S C0T7EAGE. 383 

chief commands, both, in army and navy, must be conferred on 
persons unconnected with them ; while the Girondins, though, as 
far as was yet known, equally destitute of members possessed of 
any military ability, looked on war as favorable to their designs, 
whatever might be the issue of a campaign. They were above all 
things eager for the destruction of the monarchy, and they reck- 
oned that if the French army were victorious, its success would 
disable those who were most willing and might be most able to 
support the throne ; while, if the enemy should prevail, it would 
be easy to represent their triumph as the fruit of the mismanage- 
ment, if not of the treachery, of the king's generals and ministers ; 
and the opposition of these two parties was at this time so noto- 
rious that the queen thought it favorable to the king, since each 
would be eager to preserve him as a possible ally against its ad- 
versaries. It is for her husband's and her child's safety that she 
expresses anxiety, never for her own. With respect to herself 
her uniform language is that of fearlessness. She does not for a 
moment conceal from her correspondents her sense of the dangers 
which surround her. She has not only open hostility to fear, but 
treachery, which is far worse ; and she declares that " a perpet- 
ual imprisonment in a solitary tower on the sea-shore would be a 
less cruel fate than that which she daily endures from the wick- 
edness of her enemies and the weakness of her friends. Every 
thing menaces an inevitable catastrophe ; but she is prepared for 
every thing. She has learned from her mother not to fear death. 
That may as well come to-day as to-morrow. She only fears for 
her dear children, and for those she loves ; and high among those 
whom she loves she places her sister-in-law Elizabeth, who is al- 
ways an angel aiding her to support her sorrows, and who, with 
her poor, dear children, never quits her."* 

A long continuance of sorrows and fears, such as had now for 
nearly three years pressed upon the writer of this letter, would 
so wear away and break down ordinary souls that, when a crisis 
came, they would be found wholly unequal to grapple with it ; 
and we may therefore the better form some idea of the strength 
of mind and almost superhuman fortitude of this admirable 
queen, if, from time to time, we fix our attention on these not 
exaggerated complaints, for indeed the misfortunes that elicited 

* Letter to Madame de Polignac, March lYth, Feuillet de Conches, v., p. 



384 LIFE OF 3IARIE ANTOINETTE. 

them admit of no exaggeration ; and then remember that, after 
so long a period of such uninterrupted suffering, her spirit was so 
far from being broken, that, as increasing dangers and horrors 
thickened around her, her courage seemed to increase also. Her 
faithful attendant, Madame de Campan, has remarked that her 
troubles had not even affected her temper ; that no one ever saw 
her out of humor. In every respect, to the very last, she showed 
herself superior to the utmost malice of her enemies. 

The news of the death of Leopold, whose son and successor, 
Francis, was but thi*ee - and - twenty years of age, gave fresh en- 
couragement to his sister's enemies. The intelligence had hardly 
reached Paris when Vergniaud began to prepare the way for a 
fresh assault on the crown by a denunciation of the ministers, 
while the Jacobins and Cordeliers made an open attack upon an- 
other club which the Constitutionalists had lately formed under 
the name of Les Feuillants, holding its meetings in a convent of 
the Monks of St. Bernard,* and closed it by main force. Though 
several soldiers, and La Fayette among them, were members of 
the Feuillants, they made no resistance ; they only applied to Pe- 
tion, as mayor of the city, for protection ; and that worthy mag- 
istrate refused them aid, telling them that though the law forbade 
them to be attacked, the voice of the people was against them, 
and to that voice he was bound to listen. 

The ministers fell before Vergniaud, and the unhappy king had 
no resource but to choose their successors from the party which 
had triumphed over them. The absurd law by which the last 
Assembly had excluded its members from office was still in force, 
so that the orator himself and his colleagues could obtain no per- 
sonal promotion ; but they were able to nominate the new min- 
isters, who, with but one exception, were all men equally devoid 
of ability and reputation, and therefore were the better fitted to 
be the tools of those to whom they owed their preferment. The 
names of three were Lacoste, Degraves, and Duranton, of whom 
nothing beyond their names is known. A fourth was Roland, 
who was indeed known, though not for any abilities of his own, 
but as the husband of the woman who, as has been already men- 
tioned, was the first person in the whole nation to raise the cry 
for the murder of the king and queen, and whose fierce thirst for 

* The Monks of St. Bernard were known as Feuillants, from Feuillans, a 
village in Languedoc where their principal convent was situated. 



CHARACTER OF DTJMOJJRIEZ. 385 

blood so predominated over every other feeling that a few weeks 
afterward she even began to urge the assassination of the only 
one among her husband's colleagues who was possessed of the 
slightest ability, because his views did not altogether coincide 
vnth her own. 

General Dumouriez, whom she thus honored by singling him 
out for her especial hatred, was an exception to his colleagues in 
several points. He was a man of middle age, who enjoyed a good 
reputation, not only for military skill, but also for diplomatic sa- 
gacity and address, earned as far back as the latter years of the 
preceding reign ; and he was so far from being originally imbued 
with revolutionary principles that, when, in the summer of 1789, 
a mutinous spirit first appeared among the troops in Paris, he vol- 
unteered to place his services at the king's disposal, recommend- 
ing measures of vigor and resolution, which, if they had been 
adopted, might have quelled the spirit of rebellion, and have 
changed the whole subsequent history of the nation. But as 
Necker had rejected Mirabeau a few weeks before, so he also re- 
jected Dumouriez ; and discontent at the treatment which he re- 
ceived from the minister, and which seemed to prove that active 
employment, of Avhich he was desirous, could only be obtained 
through some other influence, drove the general into the ranks of 
the Revolutionary party. He now accepted the post of foreign 
secretary in the new ministry ; but the connection with the ene- 
mies of the monarchy was uncongenial to his taste ; and, after a 
short time, the frequent intercourse with Louis, which was the 
necessary consequence of his appointment, and the conviction of 
the king's perfect honesty and patriotism which this intercourse 
forced upon him, revived his old feelings of loyalty, and, so long 
as he remained in office, he honestly endeavored to avert the evils 
which he foresaw, and to give the advice and to support the poli- 
cy by which, in his honest belief, it was alone possible for Louis 
to preserve his authority. 

Dumouriez was a gentleman in birth and manners ; but his col- 
leagues had so little of either the habits or appearance of decent 
society that the attendants on the royal family gave them the 
name of the Sans-culottes ; and this name, meant originally to 
describe the absence of the ordinary court dress, without which 
no previous ministers had ever ventured to appear in the pres- 
ence of royalty, was presently adopted as a distinctive title 
by the whole body of the extreme revolutionists, who knew 

25 



386 LIFE OF 3rABIE ANTOINETTE. 

the value of a name under which to bind their followers to- 
gether.* 

The attacks on the ministry Avere accompanied with more di- 
rect attacks on the king and queen themselves than had ever been 
ventured on in the former Assembly. By this time the system of 
espial and treachery by which they were surrounded had become 
so systematic that they could not even send a messenger to their 
nephew, the emperor, except under a feigned name ;f and the Bar- 
on de Breteui], who announced his mission to Francis, reported to 
him at the same time that the chiefs of the Assembly were pro- 
posing to pass votes suspending the " king from his functions, and 
to separate the queen from him on the ground that an impeach- 
ment was to be presented against both, as having solicited the late 
emperor to form a confederacy among the great powers of Eu- 
rope in favor of the royal prerogative." The queen was, in fact, 
now, as always, more the object of their hatred than her husband, 
and toward the end of Mai*ch a reconciliation of all her enemies 
took place, that the attack upon her might be combined with a 
strength that should insure its success. The Marquis de Condor- 
cet, a man of some eminence in philosophy, as the word had been 
understood since the reign of the Encyclopedists, and closely con- 
nected with the Girondins, though not formally enrolled in their 
party, gave a supper, at which the Due d'Orleans formally recon- 
ciled himself to La Fayette ; and both, in company with Brissot 
and the Abbe Sieyes, who of late had scarcely been heard of, 
drew up an indictment against the queen. [j; Their malignity 
even went the length of resolving to separate the dauphin from 
his mother, on the plea of providing for his education ; but 
the means which the Girondins took to secure their triumph 
for the moment defeated them. La Fayette did not keep the 
secret. One of his friends gave information to the king of the 
plot that was in contemplation, and the next day the Constitu- 
tionalists mustered in the Assembly in such strength that neither 

* Lanaartine, "Histoire des Girondins," xiii., p. 18. 

f The messenger was M. Goguelat : he took the name of M. Daumartin, and 
adhered to the cause of his sovereigns to the last moment of their hves. 

\ Letter of the Count de Fersen, who was at Brussels, to Gustavus (who, 
however, was dead before it could reach him), dated March 24th, 1*792. In 
many respects the information De Fersen sends to his king tallies precisely 
with that sent by Breteuil to the emperor ; he only adds a few circumstances 
which had not reached the baron. 



A DECLARATION OF WAR. 387 

Girondins nor Jacobins dared bring forward tbe infamous pro- 
posal. 

But Louis and Marie Antoinette reasonably regarded the attack 
on tliem as only postponed, not as defeated or abandoned. They 
began to prepare for the worst. They burned most of their pa- 
pers, and removed into the custody of friends whom they could 
trust those which they regarded as too valuable to destroy ; and 
at the same time they sent notice to their partisans to cease writ- 
ing to them. They could neither venture to send nor to receive 
letters. They believed that at this time the plan of their ftnemies 
was to terrify them into repeating their attempt to escape ; an at- 
tempt of which the espial and treachery with which they were sur- 
rounded would have insured the failure, but which would have giv- 
en the Jacobins a pretext for their trial and condemnation. But 
this "scheme they could themselves defeat by remaining at their 
posts. Patience and courage were their only possible defense, and 
with those qualities they were richly endowed. 

A vital difference of principle distinguished the old from the 
new ministry : the former had wished to preserve, the majority of 
the latter were resolved to destroy, the throne ; and the means by 
which each sought to attain its end were as diametrically opposite 
as the ends themselves. Bertrand and De Lessart, the ministers 
who, in the late administration, had enjoyed most of the king and 
queen's confidence, had been studious to preserve peace, believing 
that policy to be absolutely essential for the safety of Louis him- 
self. Because they entertained the same opinion, the new minis- 
ters were eager for war ; and, unhappily, Dumouriez, in spite of 
his desire to uphold the throne, was animated by the same feeling. 
His own talents and tastes were warlike, and his office enabled him 
to gratify them in this instance. For the conciliatory tone which 
De Lessart had employed toward the Lnperial Government, he 
now substituted a language not only imperious, but menacing. 
Prince Kaunitz, who still presided over the administration at Vi- 
enna, attached though he was to the system of policy which he 
had inaugurated under Maria Teresa, could not avoid replying in 
a similar strain, until at last, on the 20th of April, Louis, sorely 
against his will, was compelled to announce to the Assembly that 
all his efforts for the preservation of peace had failed, and to pro- 
pose an instant declaration of war. 

The declaration was voted with enthusiasm ; but for some time 
it brought nothing but disaster. The campaign was opened in the 



388 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

Netherlands, where the Austrians, taken by surprise, were so weak 
in numbers that it seemed certain that they would be driven from 
the country without difficulty or delay. Marshal Beaulieu, their 
commander-in-chief, had scarcely twenty thousand men, while the 
Count de Narbonne had left the French army in so good a condi- 
tion that Degraves, his successor, was able to send a hundred and 
thirty thousand men against him ; and Dumouriez furnished him 
with a plan for an invasion of the Netherlands, which, if proper- 
ly carried out, would have made the French masters of the whole 
country in a few days. But the largest division of the army, to 
which the execution of the most important portions of the intend- 
ed operations was intrusted, had been placed under the command 
of La Fayette, who proved equally devoid of resolution and of skill. 
Some of his regiments showed a disorderly and insubordinate tem- 
per. One battalion first mutinied and murdered some of its' offi- 
cers, and then disgraced itself by cowardice in the field. Another 
displayed an almost equal want of courage ; and La Fayette, dis- 
heartened and perplexed, though the number of his troops still 
more than doubled those opposed to him, retreated into France, 
and remained there in a state of complete inactivity. 

But, as has been said before, disaster was almost as favorable 
to the political views of the Girondins as success, while it added 
to the dangers of the sovereigns by encouraging the Jacobins, who 
were elated at the failure of a general so hateful to them as La 
Fayette. They now adopted a party emblem, a red cap ; and the 
Due d'Orleans and his son, the Due de Chartres,* assumed it, and 
with studied insult paraded in it up and down the gardens of the 
palace, under the queen's windows ; and if the two factions did 
not formally coalesce, they both proceeded with greater boldness 
than ever toward their desired object, not greatly differing as to 
the means by which it was to be attained. 

The palace was now indeed a scene of misery. The king's ap- 
athy was degenerating into despair. At one time he was so ut- 
terly prostrated that he remained for ten days absolutely silent, 
never uttering a word except to name his throws when playing 
at backgammon with Elizabeth. At last the queen roused him 
from his torpor, throwing herself at his feet, and mingling caress- 
es with her expostulations ; entreating him to remember what he 

* Afterward Louis Philippe, King of the French, who was himself driven 
from the throne by insurrection above half a century afterward. 



FRESH LIBELS. 389 

owed to liis family, and reminding him that, if they must perish, 
it was better at least to perish with honor, and be king to the 
last, than to wait passively till assassins should come and murder 
them in their own rooms. She herself was in a condition in 
which nothing but her indomitable courage prevented her from 
utterly breaking down. Sleep had deserted her. By day she 
rarely ventured out-of-doors. Riding she had given up, and she 
feared to walk in the garden of the Tuileries, even in the little 
portion marked off for the dauphin's playground, lest she should 
expose herself to the coarse insults which the basest of hirelings 
were ever on the watch to offer her.* She could not even vent- 
ure to go openly to mass at Easter, but was forced to arrange for 
one of her chaplains to perform the service for her before day- 
light. Balked of their wish to offer her personal insults, her en- 
emies redoubled their diligence in inventing and spreading libels. 
The demagogues of the Palais Royal revived the stories of her 
subservience to the interests of Austria, and even sent letters 
forged in her name to different members of the Assembly, in- 
viting them to private conferences with her in the apartments of 
Madame de Lamballe. But she treated all such attacks with 
lofty disdain, and was even greatly annoyed when she learned 
that the chief of the police, with the king's sanction, had bought 
up a life of Madame La Mothe, in which that infamous woman 
pretended to give a true account of the affair of her necklace, and 
had had it burned in the manufactory of Sevres. She thought, 
with some reason, that to take a step which seemed to show a 
dread of such attacks was the surest way to encourage more of 
them, and that apparent indifference to them was the only line of 
action consistent with her innocence or with her dignity. 

The increasing dangers of her position moved the pity of some 
who had once been her enemies, and sharpened their desire to 
serve her. Barnave, who probably overrated his present influ- 
ence,f in many letters pressed his advice upon her; of which 
the substance was that she should lay aside her distrust of the 
Constitutionalist party, and, with the king, throw herself wholly 
on the Constitution, to which the nation was profoundly attached. 
He even admitted that it was not without defects ; but held out a 
hope that, with the aid of the Royalists, he and his friends might 
be able to amend them, and in time to re-invest the throne with 

* Madame de Campan, ch. xx. f Ibid., ch. xix. 



390 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

all necessary splendor. And the queen was so touched by his 
evident earnestness that she granted him an audience, and assured 
him of her esteem and confidence. Barnave was partly correct 
in his judgment, but he overlooked one all-essential circumstance. 
There is no doubt that he spoke truly when he declared that the 
nation in general was attached to the Constitution ; but he failed 
to give sufficient weight to the consideration that the Jacobins 
and Girondins were agreed in seeking to overthrow it, and that 
for that object they were acting with a concert and an energy to 
which he and his party were strangers. 

Dumouriez too was equally earnest in his desire to serve the 
king and her, with far greater power to be useful than Barnave. 
He too was admitted to an audience, of which he has left us an 
account which, while it shows both his notions of the state of 
the country and of the rival parties, and also his own sincerity, 
is no less characteristic of the queen herself. Admitted to her 
presence, he found her, as he describes the interview, looking very 
red, walking up and down the room with impetuous strides, in 
an agitation which presaged a stormy discussion. The different 
events which had taken place since the king in the preceding 
autumn had ratified the Constitution, the furious language held 
in, and the violent measures carried by, the Assembly, had evi- 
dently changed her belief in the possibility of attempting, even 
for a short time, to carry on the Government under the conditions 
imposed by that act. She came toward him with an air which 
was at once majestic and yet showed irritation, and said : 

" You, sir, are all-powerful at this moment ; but it is only by the 
favor of the people, which soon breaks its idols to pieces. Your 
existence depends on your conduct. You are said to have great 
talents. You must see that neither the king nor I can endure all 
these novelties nor the Constitution. I tell you this frankly. Now 
choose your side." 

To this fervid apostrophe Dumouriez replied in a tone which 
he intended to combine a sorrowful tenderness with loyal re- 
spect : 

" Madame," said he, " I am overwhelmed with the painful con- 
fidence which your majesty has reposed in me. I will not be- 
tray it ; but I am placed between the king and the nation, and I 
belong to my country. Permit me to represent to you that the 
safety of the king, of yourself, and of your august children is 
bound up with the Constitution, as well as is the re-establishment 



BmiOURIEZ AND THE QUEEN. 391 

of the king's legitimate authority. You are both surrounded with 
enemies who are sacrificing you to their own interests." 

The unfortunate queen, shocked as well as surprised at this op- 
position to her views, replied, raising her voice, 

" That will not last ; take care of yourself." 

" Madame," replied he, in his turn, " I am more than fifty years 
old. My life has been passed in countless dangers, and when I 
took oflace I reflected deeply that its responsibility was not the 
greatest of its perils." 

" This was alone wanting," cried out the queen, with an accent 
of indignant grief, and as if astonished herself at her own vehe- 
mence. " This alone was wanting to calumniate me ! You seem 
to suppose that I am capable of causing you to be assassinated !" 
and she burst into tears. 

Dumouriez was as agitated as she was. "God forbid," he re- 
plied, " that I should do you such an injustice !" And he added 
some flattering expressions of attachment, such as he thought cal- 
culated to soothe a mind so proud, yet so crushed. And present- 
ly she calmed herself, and came up to him, putting her hand on 
his arm ; and he resumed : " Believe me, madame, I have no ob- 
ject in deceiving you ; I abhor anarchy and crime as much as you 
do. Believe me, I have experience ; I am better placed than your 
majesty for judging of events. This is not a short-lived popular 
movement, as you seem to think. It is the almost unanimous in- 
surrection of a great nation against inveterate abuses. There are 
great factions which fan this flame. In all factions there are 
many scoundrels and many madmen. In the Revolution I see 
nothing but the king and the entire nation. Every thing which 
tends to separate them tends to their mutual ruin : I am laboring 
as much as I can to reunite them. It is for you to help me. If 
I am an obstacle to your designs, and if you persist in thinking 
so, tell me so, and I will at once send in my resignation to the 
king, and will retire into a corner to grieve over the fate of my 
country and of you." 

And he concludes his narrative by expressing his belief that he 
had regained the queen's confidence by his frank explanation of 
his views, while he himself in his turn was evidently fascinated 
by the affability with which, after a brief further conversation, 
she dismissed him.'* Though, if we may trust Madame de Cam- 

* " Vie de Dumouriez," ii., p. 163, quoted by Marquis de Ferri^res, Feuillet 
de Conches, and several other writers. 



392 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

pan, Marie Antoinette was not as satisfied as she had seemed to 
be, but declared that it was not possible for her to place confi- 
dence in his protestations when she recollected his former lan- 
guage and acts, and the party with which he was even now acting. 

Madame de Campan probably gives a more correct report of the 
queen's feelings than the general himself, whom the conscious- 
ness of his own integrity of purpose very probably misled into 
believing that he had convinced her of it. But, though, if Marie 
Antoinette did listen to his professions and advice with some de- 
gree of mistrust, she undoubtedly did him less than justice : she 
can hardly be blamed for indulging such a feeling, when it is re- 
membered in what an atmosphere of treachery she had lived for 
the last three years. Undoubtedly Dumouriez, though not a thor- 
ough-going Royalist like M. Bertrand, was not only in intention 
an honest and friendly counselor, but was by far the ablest ad- 
viser who had had access to her since the death of Mirabeau, and 
in one respect was a more judicious and trustworthy adviser than 
even that brilliant and fertile statesman ; since he did not fall into 
the error of miscalculating what was practicable, or of overrating 
his own influence with the Assembly or the nation. 

Yet, had the king and queen adopted his views ever so unre- 
servedly, it may well be doubted whether they would have avert- 
ed or even deferred the fate which awaited them. The leaders of 
the two parties, before whose union they fell, had as little attach- 
ment to the new Constitution as the queen. The moment that 
they obtained the undisputed ascendency, they trampled it under- 
foot in every one of its provisions. Constitution or no Constitu- 
tion, they were determined to overthrow the throne and to de- 
stroy those to whom it belonged ; and to men animated with such 
a resolution it signified little what pretext might be afforded them 
by any actions of their destined victims. The wolf never yet 
wanted a plea for devouring the lamb. 

One of the first fruits of the union between the Jacobins and 
the Girondins was the preparation of an insurrection. The As- 
sembly did not move fast enough for them. It might be still 
useful as an auxiliary, but the lead in the movement the clubs as- 
sumed to themselves. Their first care was to deprive the king of 
all means of resistance, and with this view to get rid of the Con- 
stitutional Guard, the commander of which was still the gallant 
Duke de Brissac, a noble-minded and faithful adherent of Louis 
amidst all his distresses. But it was not easy to find any ground 



DISSOLUTION OF THE GUARD. 393 

for disbanding a force which was too small to be formidable to 
any but traitors ; and the pretext which was put forward was so 
preposterous that it could excite no feeling but that of amuse- 
ment, if the object aimed at were not too serious and shocking 
for laughter. At Easter the dauphin had presented the mess of 
the regiment with a cake, one of the ornaments of which was a 
small white flag taken from among his own toys. Petion now 
issued orders to search the oflticers' quarters for this child's flag, 
and, when it was found, one of the Jacobin members was not 
ashamed to produce it to the Assembly as a proof that the court 
was meditating a counter-revolution and a massacre of the patri- 
ots, and to propose the instant dissolution of the Guard. The 
motion was carried, though some of the Constitutionalist party 
had the honesty to oppose it, as one which could have only regi- 
cide for its object ; and Louis did not dare refuse it his assent. 

He was now wholly disarmed. To render his defeat in the im- 
pending struggle more certain, one of the ministers, Servan, him- 
self proposed a levy of twenty thousand fresh soldiers, to be sta- 
tioned permanently at Paris, and this motion also was passed. 
Again Louis could not venture to withhold his sanction from the 
bill, though he comforted himself by dismissing the mover, with 
two of his colleagues, Roland and Claviere. Roland's dismissal 
had indeed become indispensable, since, on the preceding day, he 
had had the audacity to write him an insolent letter, composed 
by his ferocious wife, which in express terms threatened him with 
death " if he did not give satisfaction to the Revolution."* Nor 
was Madame Roland inclined to be satisfied with the murder of 
the king and queen. As has been already mentioned, she at the 
same time urged upon her submissive husband the assassination 
of Dumouriez, who, having intelligence of her enmity, began in 
self-defense to connect himself with the Jacobins. On the dis- 
missal of Roland and the others, he had exchanged the foreign 
port-folio for that of war, and was practically the prime minister, 
being in fact the only one whom Louis admitted to any degree of 
confidence ; but this arrangement lasted less than a single week. 
Louis had yielded to and adopted his advice on every point but 
one. He had sanctioned the dismissal of the Constitutional 



* Even Lamartine condemns the letter, the greater part of which he in- 
serts in his history as one in which " the threat is no less evident than the 
treachery." — Histoire des G-irondhis, xiii., p. 16. 



394 LIFE OF 31ABIE ANTOINETTE. 

Guard, and the formation of the new body of troops, which, no 
one doubted, was intended to be used against himself; but he 
was as firmly convinced as ever that his religious duty bound him 
to refuse his assent to the decree against the priests, and he re- 
fused to do a violence to his conscience, and to commit what he 
regarded as a sin. But this very decree was the one which Du- 
mouriez regarded as the most dangerous one for him to reject, as 
being that which the Assembly was most firmly resolved to make 
law ; and, as his most vigorous remonstrances failed to shake the 
king's resolution on this point, he resigned his post as a minister, 
and repaired to the Flemish frontier to take the command of the 
army, which greatly needed an able leader. 



MOmiEUB AND MADAME VETO. 395 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

The Insurrection of June 20th. 

Both Jacobins and Girondins felt that the departure of Du- 
mouriez from Paris had removed a formidable obstacle from their 
path, and they at once began to hurry forward the preparations 
for their meditated insurrection. The general gave in his resig- 
nation on the 15th of June, and the 20th was fixed for an attack 
on the palace, by which its contrivers designed to effect the over- 
throw of the throne, if not the destruction of the entire royal 
family. It was organized with unusual deliberation. The meet- 
ings of conspirators were attended not only by the Girondin lead- 
ers, to whom Madame Roland had recently added a new recruit, 
a young barrister from the South, named Barbaroux, remarkable 
for his personal beauty, and, as was soon seen, for a pitiless hard- 
ness of heart, and energetic delight in deeds of cruelty that, even 
in that blood - thirsty company, was equaled by few ; with them 
met all those as yet most notorious for ferocity — Danton and Le- 
gendre, the founders of the Cordeliers ; Marat, daily, in his ob- 
scene and blasphemous newspaper, clamoring for wholesale blood- 
shed; Santerre, odious as the sanguinary leader of the very first 
outbreaks of the Revolution ; Rotondo, already, as we have seen, 
detected in attempting to assassinate the queen ; and Petion, who 
thus repaid her preference of him to La Fayette, which had placed 
him in the mayoralty, whose duties he was now betraying. 
Some, too, bore a part in the foul conspiracy as partisans of the 
Due d'Orleans, who were generally understood to have instruc- 
tions to be lavish of their master's gold, the vile prince hoping 
that the result of the outbreak would be the assassination of his 
cousin, and his own elevation to the vacant throne. In their 
speeches they gave Louis the name of Monsieur Veto, in allusion 
to the still legal exercise of his prerogative, by which he had 
sought to protect the priests ; while the queen was called Madame 
Veto, though in fact she had finally joined Dumouriez in urging 
her husband to give his royal assent to the decree against them, 
not, as thinking it on any pretense justifiable, but as believing. 



396 LIFE OF MAEIF ANTOINETTE. 

with the general, in the impossibility of maintaining its rejection. 
Yet nothing could more completely prove the absolute innocence 
and unimpeachable good faith of both king and queen than the 
act of his enemies in giving them this nickname ; so clear an evi- 
dence was it that they could allege nothing more odious against 
them than the possession by Louis, in a most modified degree, 
of a prerogative which, without any modification at all, has in 
every country been at all times regarded as indispensable to, and 
inseparable from, royalty ; and the exercise of it for the defense 
of a body of men of whom none could deny the entire harm- 
lessness. 

On the night of the 19th the appointed leaders of the different 
bands into which the insurgents were to be divided separated; 
the watch-word, " Destruction to the palace," was given out ; and 
all Paris waited in anxious terror for the events of the morrow. 
Louis was as well aware as any of the citizens of the intended 
attack, and prepared for it as for death. On the afternoon of 
the 19th he wrote to his confessor to desire him to come to him 
at once. " He had never," he said, " had such need of his conso- 
lations. He had done with this world, and his thoughts were 
now fixed on Heaven alone. Great calamities were announced 
for the morrow ; but he felt that he had courage to meet them." 
And after the holy man had left him, as he gazed on the setting 
sun he once more gave utterance to his forebodings. " Who can 
tell," said he, " whether it be not the last that I shall ever see ?" 
The Royalists felt his danger almost as keenly as himself, but 
were powerless to prevent it by any means of their own. The 
Duke de Liancourt, who had some title to be listened to by the 
Revolutionary party, since no one had been more zealous in pro- 
moting the most violent measures of the first Assembly, pressed 
earnestly on Petion that his duty as mayor bound him to call out 
the National Guards, and so prevent the intended outbreak, but 
was answered by sarcasms and insults ; while Vergniaud, from the 
tribune of the Assembly itself, dared to deride all who apprehend- 
ed danger. 

On the morning of the 20th, daylight had scarcely dawned 
when twenty thousand men, the greater part of whom were arm- 
ed with some weapon or other — muskets, pikes, hatchets, crow- 
bars, and even spits from the cook-shops forming part of their 
equipment — assembled on the place where the Bastile had stood. 
Santerre was already there on horseback as their appointed lead- 



ADVANCE OF THE BROTHERS. 397 

er ; and, when all were collected and marshaled in three divisions, 
they began their march. One division had for its chief the Mar- 
quis de St. Huruge, an intimate friend and adherent of the Due 
d'Orleans ; at the head of another, a woman of notorious infamy, 
known as La Belle Liegeoise, clad in male attire, rode astride 
upon a cannon ; while, as it advanced, the crowd was every mo- 
ment swelled by vast bodies of recruits, among whom were num- 
bers of women, whose imprecations in ferocity and foulness sur- 
passed even the foulest threats of the men. 

The ostensible object of the procession was to present peti- 
tions to the king and the Assembly on the dismissal of Roland and 
his colleagues from the administration, and on the refusal of the 
royal assent to the decree against the priests. The real design of 
those who had organized it was more truthfully shown by the 
banners and emblems borne aloft in the ranks. "Beware the 
Lamp,"* was the inscription on one. " Death to Veto and his 
wife," was read upon another. A gang of butchers carried a 
calf 's heart on the point of a pike, with " The Heart of an Aris- 
tocrat" for a motto. A band of crossing -sweepers, or of men 
who professed to be such, though the fineness of their linen was 
inconsistent with the rags which were their outward garments, 
had for their standard a pair of ragged breeches, with the inscrip- 
tion, " Tremble, tyrants ; here are the Sans-culottes." One gang 
of ruffians carried a model of a guillotine. Another bore aloft a 
miniature gallows with an effigy of the queen herself hanging 
from it. So great was the crowd that it was nearly three in the 
afternoon before the head of it reached the Assembly, where its 
approach had raised a debate on the propriety of receiving any 
petition at all which was to be presented in so menacing a guise ; 
M. Roederer, the procurator-syndic, or chief legal officer of the 
department of Paris, recommending its rejection, on the ground 
that such a procession was illegal, not only because of its avowed 
object of forcing its way to the king, but also because it was 
likely to lead into acts of violence even if it had not premedi- 
tated them. 

His arguments were earnestly supported by the constitution- 
alists, and opposed and ridiculed by Vergniaud. But before the 
discussion was over, the rioters, who had now reached the hall, 

* " Gare la Lanterne," alluding to the use of the chains to which the street- 
lamps were suspended as gibbets. 



398 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

took the decision into their own hands, forced open the door, 
and put forward a spokesman to read what they called a petition, 
but which was in truth a sanguinary denunciation of those whom 
it proclaimed the enemies of the nation, and of whom it demand- 
ed that " the land should be purged." Insolent and ferocious as 
it was, it, however, coincided with the feelings of the Girondins, 
who were now the masters of the Assembly. One orator carried 
a motion that the petitioners should receive what were called the 
honors of the Assembly ; or, in other words, should be allowed 
to enter the hall with their arms and defile before them. They 
poured in with exulting uproar. Songs, half blood-thirsty and 
half obscene, gestures indicative some of murder, some of de- 
bauchery, cries of " Vive la nation !" interspersed with inarticulate 
yells, were the sounds, the guillotine and the queen upon the gal- 
lows were the sights, which were thought in character with the 
legislature of a people which still claimed to be regarded as the 
pattern of civilization by all Europe. Evening approached be- 
fore the last of the rabble had passed through the hall ; and by 
that time the leading ranks were in front of the Tuileries. 

There were but scanty means of resisting them. A few com- 
panies of the National Guard formed the whole protection of the 
palace ; and with them the agents of Orleans and the Girondins 
had been briskly tampering all the morning. Many had been se- 
duced. A few remained firm in their loyalty ; but those on whom 
the royal family had the best reason to rely were a band of gen- 
tlemen, with the veteran Marshal de Noailles at their head, who 
had repaired to the Tuileries in the morning to furnish to their sov- 
ereign such defense as could be found in their loyal and devoted 
gallantry. Some of them besides the old marshal, the Count 
d'Hervilly, who had commanded the cavalry of the Constitution- 
al Guard, and M. d'Acloque, an officer of the National Guard, 
brought military experience to aid their valor, and made such 
arrangements as the time and character of the building rendered 
practicable to keep the rioters at bay. But the utmost bravery 
of such a handful of men, for they were no more, and even the 
more solid resistance of iron gates and barriers, were unavailing 
against the thousands that assailed them. Exasperated at find- 
ing the gates closed against them, the rioters began to beat upon 
them with sledge-hammers. Presently they were joined by Ser- 
gent and Panis, two of the municipal magistrates, who ordered 
the sentinels to open the gates to the sovereign people. The 



FURY OF THE RIOTERS IN THE PALACE. 399 

sentinels fled ; the gates were opened or broken down ; the mob 
seized one of the cannons which stood in the Place da Carrousel, 
carried it up the stairs of the palace, and planted it against the 
door of the royal apartments ; and, while they shouted out a de- 
mand that the king should show himself, they began to batter 
the door as before they had battered the gates, and threatened, if 
it should not yield to their hatchets, to blow it down with can- 
non-shot. 

Fear of personal danger was not one of the king's weaknesses. 
The hatchets beat down the outer door, and, as it fell, he came 
forth from the room behind, and with unruffled countenance ac- 
costed the ruflSans who were pouring through it. His sister, the 
Princess Elizabeth, was at his side. He had charged those around 
him to keep the queen back ; and she, knowing how special an 
object of the popular hatred and fury she was, with a fortitude 
beyond that which defies death, remained out of sight lest she 
should add to his danger. For a moment the mob, respecting, in 
spite of themselves, the calm heroism with which they were con- 
fronted, paused in their onset ; but those in front were pushed 
on by those behind, and pikes were leveled and blows were aimed 
at both the king and the princess, whom they mistook for the 
queen. At first there were but one or two attendants at the 
king's side, but they were faithful and brave men. One struck 
down a rufiian who was lifting his weapon to aim a blow at Louis 
himself. A pike was even leveled at his sister, when her equerry, 
M. Bousquet, too far off to bring her the aid of his right hand, 
called out " Spare the princess." Delicate as Avere her frame 
and features, Elizabeth was Avorthy of her blood, and as dauntless 
as the rest. She turned to her preserver almost reproachfully : 
" Why did you undeceive him ? it might have saved the queen." 
But after a few seconds, Acloque with some grenadiers of the 
National Guard on whom he could still rely, hastened up by a 
back staircase to defend his sovereign ; and, with the aid of some 
of the gentlemen who had come with the Marshal de Noailles, 
drew the king back into a recess formed by a window ; and raised 
a rampart of benches in front of him, and one still more trust- 
worthy of their own bodies. They would gladly have attacked 
the rioters and driven them back, but were restrained by Louis 
himself. " Put up your swords," said he ; " this crowd is ex- 
cited rather than wicked." And he addressed those who had 
forced their way into the room with words of condescending 



400 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

conciliation. They replied with threats and imprecations ; and 
sought to force their way onward, pressing back by their mere 
numbers and weight the small group of loyal champions who by 
this time had gathered in front of him. 

So great was the uproar that presently a report reached the 
main body of the insurgents, who were still in the garden be- 
neath, that Louis had been killed ; and they mingled shouts of 
triumph with cheers for Orleans as their new king, and demand- 
ed that the heads of the king and queen should be thrown down 
to them from the windows ; but no actual injury was inflicted on 
Louis, though he owed his safety more to his own calmness than 
even to the devotion of his guards. One ruffian threatened him 
with instant death if he did not at once grant every prayer con- 
tained in their petition. He replied, as composedly as if he had 
been on his throne at Versailles, that the present was not the time 
for making such a demand, nor was this the way in which to 
make it. The dignity of the answer seemed to imply a contempt 
for the threateners, and the mob grew more uproarious. " Fear 
not, sire," said one of Acloque's grenadiers, " we are around you." 
The king took the man's hand and placed it on his heart, which 
was beating more calmly than that of the soldier himself. " Judge 
yourself," said he, " if I fear." Legendre, the butcher, raised his 
pike as if to strike him, while he reproached him as a traitor and 
the enemy of his country. "I am not, and never have been 
aught but the sincerest friend of my people," was the gentle but 
fearless answer. " If it be so, put on this red cap," and the 
butcher thrust one into Ms hand on the end of his pike, prepared, 
as Louis believed, to plunge the weapon itself into his breast if 
he refused. The king put it on, and so little regarded it that he 
forgot to remove it again, as he afterward repented that he had 
not done, thinking that his conduct in allowing it to remain on 
his head bore too strong a resemblance to fear or to an unworthy 
compromise of his dignity. 

But still the uproar increased, and above it rose loud cries for 
the queen, till at last she also came forward. As yet, from the 
motives that have already been mentioned, she had consented to 
remain out of sight ; but each explosion of the mob increased 
her unwillingness to keep back. It was, she felt, her duty to be 
always at the king's side ; if need be, to die with him ; to stand 
aloof was infamy ; and at last, as the demands for her appearance 
increased, even those around her confessed that it might be safer 



ENTRANCE OF THE QUEEN. 401 

for her to show herself. The door was thrown open, and, leading 
forth her children, from whom she refused to part, and accom- 
panied by Madame de Tourzel, Madame de Lamballe, and others 
of her ladies, the most timid of whom seemed as if inspired by 
her example, Marie Antoinette advanced and took her place by 
the side of her husband, and, with head erect and color heightened 
by the sight of her enemies, faced them disdainfully. As lions 
in their utmost rage have recoiled before a man who has looked 
them steadily in the face, so did even those miscreants quail before 
their pure and high-minded queen. At first it seemed as if her 
bitterest enemies were to be found among her own sex. The men 
were for a moment silenced ; but a young girl, whose appearance 
was not that of the lowest class, came forward and abused her in 
coarse and furious language, especially reviling her as " the Aus- 
trian." The queen, astonished at finding such animosity in one 
apparently tender and gentle, condescended to expostulate with 
her. " Why do you hate me ? I have never injured you." " You 
have not injured me, but it is you who cause the misery of the 
nation." " Poor child," replied Marie Antoinette, " they have de- 
ceived you. I am the wife of your king, the mother of your 
dauphin, who will be your king. I am a Frenchwoman in every 
feeling of my heart. I shall never again see Austria. I can 
only be happy or unhappy in France, and I was happy when you 
loved me." The girl was melted by her patience and gentleness. 
She burst into tears of shame, and begged pardon for her previ- 
ous conduct. " I did not know you," she said ; " I see now that 
you are good."* Another asked her, " How old is your girl ?" 
" She is old enough," replied the queen, " to feel acutely such 
scenes as these." But, while these brief conversations were going 
on, the crowd kept pressing forward. One officer had drawn a 
table in front of the queen as she advanced, so as to screen her 
from actual contact with any of the rioters, but more than one of 
them stretched across it as if to reach her. One fellow demand- 
ed that she should put a red cap, which he threw to her, on the 
head of the dauphin, and, as she saw the king wearing one, she 
consented ; but it was too large and fell down the child's face, 
almost stifling him with its thickness. Santerre himself reached 
across and removed it, and, leaning with his hands on the table, 
which shook beneath his vehemence, addressed her Avith what he 

* Madame de Campan, eh. xxi. 
26 



402 LIFE OF MAEIE ANTOINETTE. 

meant for courtesy. " Princess," said lie, " do not fear. The 
French people do not -vVish to slay you. I promise this in their 
name." Marie Antoinette had long ago declared that her heart 
had become French ; it was too much so for her to allow such a 
man's claim to be the spokesman of the nation. " It is not by 
such as you," she replied, with lofty scorn ; " it is not by such as 
you that I judge of the French people, but by brave men like 
these ;" and she pointed to the gentlemen who were standing 
round her as her champions, and to the faithful grenadiers. The 
well-timed and well - deserved compliment roused them to still 
greater enthusiasm, but already the danger- was passing away. 

The Assembly had seen with indifference the departure of the 
mob to attack the Tuileries, and had proceeded with its ordinary 
business as if nothing were likely to happen which could call for 
its interference. But when the uproar within the palace became 
audible in the hall, the Count de Dumas, one of the very few men 
of noble birth who had been returned to this second Assembly, 
with a few other deputies of the better class, hastened to see what 
was taking place, and, quickly returning, reported the king's immi- 
nent danger to their colleagues. Dumas gave such offense by the 
boldness of his language that some of the Jacobins threatened 
him with violence, but he refused to- be silenced ; and his firmness 
prevailed, as firmness nearly always did pi'evail in an Assembly 
where, though there were many fierce and vehement blusterers, 
there were very few men of real courage. In compliance with 
his vehement demand for instant action, a deputation of members 
was sent to take measures for the king's safety ; and then, at last, 
Petion, who had carefully kept aloof while there seemed to be a 
chance of the king being murdered, now that he could no longer 
hope for such a consummation, repaired to the palace and present- 
ed himself before him. To him he had the effrontery to declare 
that he had only just become apprised of his situation. From the 
Assembly, at a later hour in the evening, he claimed the credit of 
having organized the riot. But Louis would not condescend to 
pretend to believe him. " It was extraordinary," he replied, " that 
Petion should not have earlier known what had lasted so long." 
Even he could not but be for a moment abashed at the king's un- 
wonted expression of indignation. But he soon recovered him- 
self, and with unequaled impudence turned and thanked the crowd 
for the moderation and dignity with which they had exercised the 
right of petition, and bid them " finish the day in similar conform- 



SANTERRE'S DIABOLICAL RESOLVE. 403 

ity with the law, and retire to their homes." They obeyed. The 
interference of the deputies had convinced their leaders that they 
could not succeed in their purpose now. Santerre, whose softer 
mood, such as it had been, had soon passed away, muttered with a 
deep oath that they had missed their blow, but must try it again 
hereafter. For the present he led off his brigands ; the palace 
and gardens were restored to quiet, though the traces of the as- 
sault to which they had been exposed could not easily be effaced ; 
and Louis and his family were left in tranquillity to thank God 
for their escape, but to forebode also that similar trials were in 
store for them, all of which, it was not likely, would have so inno- 
cent a termination.* 

* Dumas, " Memoirs of his Own Time," i., p. 363. 



404 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Feelings of Marie Antoinette. — Different Plans are formed for her Escape. — 
She hopes for Aid from Austria and Prussia. — La Fayette comes to Paris. 
— His Mismanagement. — An Attempt is made to assassinate the Queen. — 
The Motion of Bishop Lamourette. — The Feast of the Federation. — La Fay- 
ette proposes a Plan for the King's Escape. — Bertrand proposes Another. 
— Both are rejected by the Queen. 

We can do little more tLan guess at the feelings of Marie An- 
toinette after such a day of horrors. She could scarcely venture 
to write a letter, lest it should fall into hands for which it was not 
intended, and be misinterpreted so as to be mischievous to herself 
and to her correspondents. And two brief notes — one on the 4th 
of July to Mercy, and one written a day or two later to the Land- 
gravine of Hesse-Darmstadt — are all that, so far as we know, pro- 
ceeded from her pen in the sad period between the two attacks 
on the palace. Brief as they are, they are characteristic as show- 
ing her unshaken resolution to perform her duty to her family, 
and proving at the same time how absolutely free she was from 
any delusion as to the certain event of the struggle in which she 
was engaged. No courage was ever more entirely founded on 
high and virtuous principle, for no one was ever less sustained by 
hope. To Mercy she says : 

"July 4th, 1*792. 

"You know the occurrences of the 20th of June. Our posi- 
tion becomes every day more critical. There is nothing but vio- 
lence and rage on one side, weakness and inactivity on the other. 
We can reckon neither on the National Guard nor on the army. 
We do not know whether to remain in Paris, or to throw our- 
selves into some other place. It is more than time for the pow- 
ers to speak out boldly. The 14th of July and the days which 
will follow it may become days of general mourning for France, 
and of regret to the powers who will have been too slow in ex- 
plaining themselves. All is lost if the factions are not arrested in 
their wickedness by fear of impending chastisement. They are 
resolved on a republic at all risks. To arrive at that, they have 
determined to assassinate the king. It would be necessary that 



PROPOSALS FOR HER ESCAPE. 405 

any manifesto* should make the National Assembly and Paris re- 
sponsible for his life and the lives of his family. 

" In spite of all these dangers, we will not change our resolu- 
tion. You may depend on this as much as I depend on your at- 
tachment. It is a pleasure to me to believe that you allow me a 
share of the attachment which bound you to my mother. And 
this is a moment to give me a great proof of it, in saving me and 
mine, if there be still time."f 

The letter to the landgravine was one of reply to a proposal 
which that princess, who had long been one of her most attached 
friends, had lately made to her, that she should allow her brother, 
Prince George of Darmstadt, to carry out a plan by which, as he 
conceived, he could convey the queen and her children safely out 
of Paris ; the enterprise being, as both he and his sister flattered 
themselves, greatly facilitated by the circumstance that the prince's 
person was wholly unknown in the French capital. 

"July, 17924 

" Your friendship and your anxiety for me have touched my very 
inmost soul. The person§ who is about to return to you will ex- 
plain the reasons which have detained him so long. He will also 
tell you that at present I do not dare to receive him in my own 
apartment. Yet it would have been very pleasant to talk to him 
about you, to whom I am so tenderly attached. No, my princess, 
while I feel all the kindness of your offers, I can not accept them. 
I am vowed for life to my duties, and to those beloved persons 
whose misfortunes I share, and who, whatever people may say of 
them, deserve to be regarded with interest by all the world for 
the courage with which they support their position. The bearer 
of this letter will be able to give you a detailed account of what 
is going on at present, and of the spirit of this place where we are 
living. I hear that he has seen much, and has formed very cor- 
rect ideas. May all that we are now doing and suffering one day 
make our children happy ! This is the only wish that I allow my- 
self. Farewell, my princess ; they have taken from me every thing 
except my heart, which will always remain constant in its love for 

* To be issued by the foreign powers. 

f Feuillet de Conches, vi., p. 192, and Arneth, p. 265. 

X The day is not mentioned. " Lettres de la Reine Marie Antoinette k la 
Landgravine Louise," etc., p. 47. 

§ The bearer was Prince George himself, but she does not venture to name 
him more explicitly. 



406 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

you. Be sure of this ; the loss of your love would be an evil which 
I could not endure. I embrace you tenderly. A thousand compli- 
ments to all yours. I am prouder than ever of having been born 
a German," 

In her mention of the 14th of July as likely to bring fresh dan- 
gers, she is alluding to the announcement of an intention of the 
Jacobins to hold a fresh festival to commemorate the destruction 
of the Bastile on the anniversary of that exploit ; a celebration 
which she had ample reason to expect would furnish occasion for 
some fresh tumult and outrage. And we may remark that in one 
of these letters she rests her whole hope on foreign assistance; 
while in the other, she rejects foreign aid to escape from her al- 
most hopeless position. But the key to her feeling in both cases 
is one and the same. Above all things she was a devoted, faith- 
ful wife and mother. To herself and her own safety she never 
gave a thought. Her first duty, she rightly judged, was to the 
king, and she looked to such a manifesto as she desired Austria 
and Prussia to issue, backed by the movements of a powerful army, 
as the measure which afforded the best prospect of saving her 
husband, who could hardly be trusted to save himself ; while, for 
the very same reason, she refused to fly without him, even though 
flight might have saved her children, her son and heir, as well as 
herself, because it would have increased her husband's danger. In 
each case her decision was that of a brave and devoted wife, not 
perhaps in both instances judicious ; for when Prussia did mingle 
in the contest, as it did in the first week in July, it evidently in- 
creased the perils of Louis, if indeed they were capable of aggra- 
vation, by giving the Jacobins a plea for raising the cry " that the 
country was in danger," But in the second case, in her refusal to 
flee, and to leave her husband by himself to confront the existing 
and impending dangers, she judged rightly and worthily of her- 
self ; and the only circumstance that has prevented her from re- 
ceiving the credit due for her refusal to avail herself of Prince 
George's offer is that throughout the whole period of the Revo- 
lution her acts of disinterestedness and heroism are so incessant 
that single deeds of the kind are lost in the contemplation of her 
entire career during this long period of trial. 

It was the peculiar ill-fortune of Louis that more than once the 
very efforts made by people who desired to assist him increased his 
perils. The events of the 20th of June had shocked and alarmed 
even La Fayette. From the beginning of the Revolution he had 



LA FAYETTE'S LACK OF MILITARY SKILL. 407 

vacillated between a desire for a republic and for a limited mon- 
arcby on something like the English pattern, without being able to 
decide which to prefer. He had shown himself willing to court a 
base popularity with the mob by heaping uncalled-for insults on 
the king and queen. But though he had coquetted with the ultra- 
revolutionists, and allowed them to make a tool of him, he had not 
nerve for the villainies which it was now clear that they meditated. 
He had no taste for bloodshed ; and, though gifted with but little 
acuteness, he saw that the success of the Jacobins and Girondins 
would lead neither to a republic nor to a limited monarchy, but 
to anarchy ; and he had discernment enough to dread that. He 
therefore now sincerely desired to save the king's life, and even 
what remained of his authority, especially if he could so order 
matters that their preservation should be seen to be his own work. 
He was conscious also that he could reckon on many allies in any 
effort which he might make for the prevention of further outrages. 
The more respectable portion of the Parisians viewed the recent 
outrages with disgust, sharpened by personal alarm. The domin- 
ion of Santerre and his gangs of destitute desperadoes was mani- 
festly fraught with destruction to themselves as well as to the king. 
The greater part of the army under his command shared these 
feelings, and would gladly have followed him to Paris to crush 
the revolutionary clubs, and to inflict condign punishment on the 
authors and chief agents in the late insurrection. If he had but 
had the skill to avail himself of this favorable state of feeling, 
there can be little doubt that it was in his power at this moment 
to have established the king in the full exercise of all the author- 
ity vested in him by the Constitution, or even to have induced 
the Assembly to enlarge that authority. He so mismanaged mat- 
ters that he only increased the king's danger, and brought general 
contempt and imminent danger on himself likewise. His enemies 
had more than once accused him of wishing to copy Cromwell. 
His friends had boasted that he' would emulate Monk. But if he 
was too scrupulous for the audacious wickedness of the one, he 
proved himself equally devoid of the well-calculating shrewdness 
of the other. If, subsequently, he had any reason to congratulate 
himself on the result of his conduct, it was that, like the stork in 
the fable, after he had thrust his head into the mouth of the wolf, 
he was allowed to draw it out again in safety. 

Louis's enemies had abundantly shown that they did not lack 
boldness. If they were to be defeated, it could only be by ac- 



408 LIFE OF 3IARIE ANTOINETTE. 

tion as bold as tlieir own. Unliappily, La Fayette's courage had 
usually found vent rather in blustering words than in stout deeds ; 
and those were the only weapons he could bring himself to em- 
ploy now. He resolved to remonstrate with the Assembly ; but 
instead of bringing up his army, or even a detachment, to back 
his remonstrance, he came to Paris with a single aid-de-camp, 
and, on the 28th of June, presented himself at the bar of the As- 
sembly and demanded an audience. A fortnight before he had 
written a letter to the president, in which he had denounced alike 
the Jacobin leaders of the clubs and the Grirondin ministers, and 
had called on the Assembly to suppress the clubs ; a letter which 
had produced no effect except to unite the two parties against 
whom it was aimed more closely together, and also to give them 
a warning of his hostility to them, which, till he was in a position 
to show it by deeds, it would have been wiser to have avoided. 

He now repeated by word of mouth the statements and argu- 
ments which he had previously advanced in writing, with the ad- 
dition of a denunciation of the recent insurrection and its au- 
thors, whom, he insisted, the Assembly was bound instantly to 
prosecute. His speech was not ill received ; for the Constitution- 
alists, who knew what he designed to say, had mustered in full 
force, and had packed the galleries beforehand with hired clap- 
pers; and many even of the Deputies who did not belong to 
that party cheered him, so obvious to all but the most desperate 
was the danger to the whole State, if Santerre and his brigands 
should be allowed to become its masters. But they cared little 
for a barren indignation which had no more effectual weapon 
than reproaches. He had said enough to exasperate, but had not 
done enough to intimidate ; while those whom he denounced had 
greater boldness and presence of mind than he, and had the forces 
on which they relied for support at hand and available. They in- 
stantly turned the latter on himself, and in their turn denounced 
him for having left his army without leave. He was frightened, 
or at least perplexed, by such a charge. He made no reply, but 
seemed like one stupefied ; and it was only through the eloquence 
of one of his friends, M. Ramond, that he was saved from the im- 
peachment with which Guadet and Vergniaud openly threatened 
him for quitting the army without leave. 

Eamond's oratory succeeded in carrying through the Assepably 
a motion in his favor, and several companies of the National 
Guard and a vast multitude of the citizens showed their sympa- 



PLOT TO ASSASSINATE LOUIS. 409 

thy witli his views by escorting him with acclamations to his ho- 
tel. But neither their evident inclination to support him, nor 
even the danger with which he himself had been threatened, could 
give him resolution and firmness in action. For a moment he 
made a demonstration as if he were prepared to secure the suc- 
cess of his designs by force. He proposed that the king should 
the next morning review Acloque's companies of the National 
Guard, after which he himself would harangue them on their duty 
to the king and Constitution. But the Girondins persuaded Pe- 
tion to exert his authority, as mayor, to prohibit the review. La 
Fayette was weak enough to submit to the prohibition ; and, 
quickened, it is said, by intelligence that Petion was preparing to 
arrest him, the next day retired in haste from Paris and rejoined 
the army. 

He had done the king nothing but harm. He had shown to 
all the world that though the Royalists and Constitutionalists 
might still be numerically the stronger party, for all purposes of 
action they were by far the weaker. He had encouraged those 
whom he had intended to daunt, and strengthened those whom 
he had hoped to crush ; and they, in consequence, proceeded in 
their treasons with greater boldness and openness than ever. 
Marie Antoinette, as we have seen, had expressed her belief that 
they designed to assassinate Louis, and she now employed her- 
self, as she had done once before, in quilting him a waistcoat of 
thickness sufficient to resist a dagger or a bullet ; though so in- 
cessant was the watch which was set on all their movements that 
it was with the greatest difficulty that she could find an opportu- 
nity of trying it on him. But it was not the king, but she her- 
self, who was the victim whom the traitors proposed to take off 
in such a manner ; and in the second week of July a man was de- 
tected at the foot of the staircase leading to her apartments, dis- 
guised as a grenadier, and sufficiently equipped with murderous 
weapons. He was seized by the guard, who had previous warn- 
ing of his design ; but was instantly rescued by a gang of ruffians 
like himself, who were on the watch to take advantage of the 
confusion which might be expected to arise from the accomplish- 
ment of his crime. 

Meanwhile the Assembly wavered, hesitated, and did nothing ; 
the Girondins and Jacobins were fertile in devising plots, and act- 
ive in carrying them out. One day, as if seized with a panic at 
some report of the strength of the Austrian and Prussian armies, 



410 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

the Assembly again passed a vote declaring the country in dan- 
ger ; on another, roused by a letter which a Madame Gouges, a 
daughter of a fashionable dress-maker, a lady of more notoriety 
than reputation, but who cultivated a character for philosophy, 
took upon herself to write to them, and still more by a curiously 
sentimental speech of the Bishop of Lyons, with the appropriate 
name of Lamourette,* the members bound themselves to have for 
the future but one heart and one sentiment ; and for some min- 
utes Jacobins, Girondins, Constitutionalists, and Royalists were 
rushing to and fro across the floor of the hall in a frenzy of mut- 
ual benevolence, embracing and kissing one another, and swearing 
an eternal friendship. They even sent a message to Louis to beg 
him to come and witness this new harmony. He came at once. 
With his disposition, it was not strange that he yielded to the 
illusion of the strange spectacle which he beheld. He shed tears 
of joy, declared the complete agreement of his sentiments with 
theirs, and predicted that their union would save France. They 
escorted him back to the Tuileries with cheers, and the very same 
evening, after a stormy debate, which was a remarkable commen- 
tary on the affection which they had just vowed to one another, 
they set him at defiance, insulting him by annulling some decrees 
to which he had given his assent, and passing a vote of confidence 
in Petion as mayor. 

The Feast of the Federation, as it was called, passed off quietly. 
The king again recognized the Constitution before the altar erect- 
ed in the Champ de Mars, and, as he drove back to the palace, 
the populace accompanied him the whole way, never ceasing their 
acclamations of " Vivent le roi et la reine !"f till they had dis- 
mounted and returned to their apartments. Such a close of the 
day had been expected by no one. La Fayette, who seems at last 
to have become really anxious to save the lives of the king and 
queen, and to have been seriously convinced that they were in 
danger, had now formally opened a communication with the 
court. He concerted his plans with Marshal Luckner, and had 
learned so much wisdom from his recent failure that he now 
placed no reliance on any thing but a display of superior force. 
He accordingly proposed to Louis to bring up a battalion of pick- 



* Lamourette might correspond to the English name Lovekin. 
f Letter of the Princess Elizabeth, date July 16th, 1792, Feuillet de Conches, 
vi., p. 215. 



PLANS FOR THE ESCAFU OF THE EOTAL FAMILY. 411 

ed men from his and the marshal's armies to escort him to the 
Champ de Mars ; and, judging that, even if the feast should pass 
off without any fresh danger, the king could never be considered 
permanently safe vi'hile he remaine'd in Paris, he recommended 
that on the next day, Louis, still under the protection of the same 
troops, should announce to the Assembly his departure for Com- 
piegne, and should at once quit the capital for that town, to which 
trusty officers would in the mean time have brought up other di- 
visions of the army in sufficient strength to set all disaffected and 
seditious spirits at defiance. 

The plan was at all events well conceived, but it was declined. 
Louis did not apparently distrust the marquis's good faith, but he 
doubted his ability to carry out an enterprise requiring an energy 
and decision of which no part of La Fayette's career had given 
any indication ; while the queen distrusted his loyalty even more 
than his capacity. One of those with whom she took counsel ex- 
pressed his opinion of the marquis's real object by saying that he 
might save the monarch, but not the monarchy ; and she replied 
that his head was still full of republican notions which he had 
brought from America, and refused to place the slightest confi- 
dence in him. We may suspect that she did not do him entire 
justice, and may rather believe, with Louis, that he was now act- 
ing in good faith ; but, with a recollection of all that she had suf- 
fered at his hands, we can not wonder at her continued distrust 
of him.* 

But his was not the only plan proposed for the escape of the 
royal family. Bertrand de Moleville, though no longer Louis's 
minister, retained his undiminished confidence, and he had found 
a place which he regarded as admirably suited for a temporary 
retreat — the Castle of Gaillon, near the left bank of the Seine, in 

* It is remarkable, however, that, if we are to take Lamartine as a guide in 
any respect, and he certainly was not in intention unfavorable to La Fayette, 
the marquis was even now playing a double game. Speaking of this very 
proposal, he says : " La Fayette himself did not disguise his ambition for a pro- 
tectorate under Louis XVI. At the very moment when he seemed devoted to 
the preservation of the king he wrote thus to his confidante, La Colombe : ' In 
the matter of liberty I do not trust myself either to the king or to any other 
person, and if he were to assume the sovereign, I would fight against him as 
I did in ITSQ.' " — Histoire des Girondins, xvii., p. ^ (English translation). It 
deserves remark, too, if his words are accurately reported, that the only occa- 
sion in lYSQ on which he "fought against" Louis must have been October 
5th and 6th, when he professed to be using every exertion for his safety. 



412 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

Normandy, the people of whicli province were almost universally 
loyal. It was within the twenty leagues from Paris which the 
Assembly had fixed for the limit of the royal journeys ; while 
yet, in case of the worst, it was likewise within easy distance of 
the coagt. An able engineer officer had pronounced it to be thor- 
oughly defensible ; and the Count d'Hervilly, with other ofiicers 
of proved courage and presence of mind, undertook the arrange- 
ment of all the military measures necessary for the safe escort of 
the entire royal family, which they themselves were willing to 
conduct, with the aid of some detachments of the Swiss Guards ; 
while the necessary funds were provided by the loyal devotion of 
the Duke de Liancourt, who placed a million of francs at his sov- 
ereign's disposal, and of one or two other nobles who came for- 
ward with almost equally lavish offerings. Louis certainly at first 
regarded the plan with favor, and, in the opinion of M. Bertrand, 
it would not have been difficult to induce him to adopt it, if the 
queen could have been brought over to a similar view. 

Unhappily several motives combined to disincline her to it. 
The insurrection which the Girondins* were preparing had orig- 
inally been fixed for the 29th of July; but, a few days before, 
M. Bertrand learned that it had been postponed till the 10th of 
August. This gave him time to mature his arrangements, all of 
which, as he reckoned, could be completed in time for the king to 
leave Paris on the evening of the 8th. But before that day ar- 
rived news had reached the court that the Duke of Brunswick, 
the Prussian commander-in-chief, had put his army in motion, 
and that he was not likely to meet any obstacle sufficient to pre- 
vent him from marching at once on Paris ; a measure which, to 
quote the language of M. Bertrand, " the queen was too anxious 
to see accomplished to hesitate at believing in its execution."! 
And at the same time some of the Jacobin leaders — Danton, 
Petion, and Santerre — had opened communications with the Gov- 
ernment, and had undertaken for a large bribe to prevent the 
threatened outbreak. The money had been paid to them, and 
Marie Antoinette more than once boasted to her attendants that 
they were now safe, as having gained over Danton ; placing the 
firmer reliance on this mode of extrication because it coincided 

* M. Bertrand expressly affirms the insurrection of August 10th to have 
been almost exclusively the work of the Girondin faction. — Memoires Parti- 
culiers, ii., p. 122. 

■j- " Memoires Particuliers," ii., p. 132. 



LOYALTY OF BE LIAN COURT DOUBTED. 413 

with her belief that the mutual jealousy of the two parties would 
dispose one of them at least eventually to embrace the cause of 
the king, as their best ally against the other. The result seems 
to show that the Jacobins only took the bribe the more effectual- 
ly to lull their destined victims into a false security. 

A third consideration, and that apparently not the weakest, 
was Marie Antoinette's rooted dislike of the Constitutionalist 
party. In their ranks the Due de Liancourt had taken his seat 
in the first Assembly; though, as he assured M. Bertrand, the 
king himself was aware that his object in so doing had been to 
serve his majesty in the most effectual manner; and he was also 
the statesman whose advice had mainly contributed to induce 
the king to visit Paris after the destruction of the Bastile, a step 
which she had always regarded as the forerunner and cause of 
some of the most irremediable encroachments of the Revolution- 
ists. Even the duke's present devotion to the king's cause could 
not entirely efface from her mind the impression that he was not 
in his heart friendly to the royal authority. She urged these 
arguments on the king. The last probably weighed with him 
but little : the two former he felt as strongly as the queen her- 
self ; and he delayed his decision, sending word to M. Bertrand 
that he had resolved to defer his departure " till the last extremi- 
ty."* His faithful servant was in amazement. " When," he ex- 
claimed, *' was the last extremity to be looked for, if it had not 
already come ?" But his astonishment was turned to absolute 
despair when the next day M. Montmorin informed him that the 
project had been entirely given up, the queen herself remarking 
" that M. Bertrand overlooked the circumstance that he was throw- 
ing them altogether into the hands of the Constitutionalists." 

She has been commonly blamed for this decision, as that which 
was the chief cause of all the subsequent calamities which over- 
whelmed her and the whole family. Yet it is not difficult to 
understand the motives which influenced her, and it is impossible 
to refrain from regarding them with sympathy. She was now at 
the decisive moment of a crisis which might well perplex the 
clearest head. There could be no doubt that the coming insur- 
rection would be the turning-point of the long conflict which had 
now lasted three years ; and it was a conflict in which her hus- 
band's throne was certainly at stake, perhaps even his and her 

* "Memoires Particuliers," p. 111. 



414 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

own life. They had indeed been so for three years ; and through- 
out the whole contest her view had constantly been that honor 
was still dearer than life ; and honor she identified with the pres- 
ervation of her husband's crown, her children's inheritance. Mi- 
rabeau had said that she would not care to save her life if she 
could not save the crown also ; and, though she can not have de- 
cided without a terrible conflict of feeling, her decision was now 
in conformity with Mirabeau's judgment of her. In the preced- 
ing year the journey to Verennes had been treated by the Repub- 
licans as a plea for pronouncing the deposition of the king ; and, 
though they were defeated then, they were undoubtedly strong- 
er in the new Assembly. On the other hand, she suspected that 
they themselves had some misgivings as to the chance of a sec- 
ond attack on the palace being more successful than the former 
one had proved ; and that the openness with which the prepara- 
tions for it were announced was intended to terrify Louis and 
herself into a second flight ; and she might not unreasonably in- 
fer that what their enemies desired was not the wisest course for 
them to adopt. To fly would evidently be to leave the whole 
field in both the Assembly and the city open to their enemies. 
It might save their lives, but it would almost to a certainty for- 
feit the crown. To stay and face the coming danger might in- 
deed lose both, but it might also save both ; and she determined 
rather to risk all, both crown and life, in the endeavor to save all, 
rather than to save the one by the deliberate sacrifice of the oth- 
er. It was a gallant and unselfish determination : if in one point 
of view it was unwise, it was at least becoming her lofty lineage, 
and consistent with her heroic character. 



THE KING WARNED OF THE INSTJBBECTION. 415 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Preparation for a New Insurrection. — Barbaroux brings up a Gang from Mar- 
seilles. — The King's last Levee. — The Assembly rejects a Motion for the 
Impeachment of La Fayette. — It removes some Regiments from Paris. — 
Preparations of the Court for Defense. — The 10th of August. — The City 
is in Insurrection. — Murder of Mandat. — Louis reviews the Guards. — He 
takes Refuge with the Assembly. — Massacre of the Swiss Guards. — Sack 
of the Tuileries. — Discussions in the Assembly. — The Royal Authority is 
suspended. 

The die was cast. Nothing was left but to wait, with such 
patience as might be, for the coming explosion, which was sure 
not to be long deferred. Madame de Stael has said that there 
never can be a conspiracy, in the proper sense of the word, in 
Paris; and that if thei'o could be one, it would be superfluous, 
since every one at all times follows the majority, and no one 
ever keeps a secret. But on this occasion the chief movers of 
sedition studiously discarded all appearance of concealment. Ver- 
gniaud, Guadet, and Gensonne wrote the king a letter couched 
in terms of the most insolent defiance, and signed with all their 
names, in which they openly announced to him that an insurrec- 
tion was organized which should be abandoned if he replaced 
Roland and his colleagues in the ministry, but which should sure- 
ly break on the palace and overwhelm it if he refused. And 
Barbaroux, who had promised Madame Roland to bring up from 
Marseilles and other towns in the south a band of men capable 
of any atrocity, had collected a gang of five hundred miscreants, 
the refuse of the galleys and the jails, and paraded them in tri- 
umph through the streets, which their arrival was destined and 
intended to deluge with blood. 

And yet Louis, or, to speak more correctly, Marie Antoinette, 
for it was with her that every decision rested, preferred to face 
the impending struggle in Paris. She still believed that the king 
had many friends in whose devotion and gallantry he could con- 
fide to the very death. On Sunday, the 5th of August, the very 
last Sunday which he was ever to behold as the acknowledged 
sovereign of the land, his levee was attended by a more than 



416 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

usually numerous and brilliant company ; though the gayety ap- 
propriate to such a scene was on this occasion clouded over by 
the anxiety for their royal master and mistress which sobered ev- 
ery one's demeanor, and spread a gloom over every countenance. 
And three days later both the Assembly and the National Guard 
displayed feelings which, to so sanguine a temper as hers, seemed 
to show a disposition to make a stout resistance to the further 
progress of disorder. The Assenibly, by a majority of more than 
two to one, rejected a motion made by Vergniaud for the im- 
peachment of La Fayette for his conduct in June ; and when the 
mob fell upon those who had voted against it, as they came out 
of the hall, the National Guard came promptly to their rescue, 
and inflicted severe chastisement on the foremost of the rioters. 

The vote of the Assembly may be said to have been the last it 
ever gave for any object but the promotion of anarchy. It more 
than neutralized its effect the very next day, when it passed a de- 
cree, for the immediate removal of three regiments of the line 
which were quartered in Paris. It even at first included in its 
resolution the Swiss Guards also ; but was subsequently compelled 
to withdraw that clause, since an old treaty with Switzerland ex- 
pressly secured to the republic the right of always furnishing a 
regiment for the honorable service of guarding the palace. And 
at the same time, as if to punish the National Guard for its con- 
duct on the previous day, another vote broke up the staff of that 
force ; cashiered its finest companies, the grenadiers and the 
mounted troopers, on the plea that such distinctions were incon- 
sistent with equality ; and filled up the vacancies with men who 
were the very dregs of the city, many of whom were, in fact, se- 
cret agents of the Jacobins, by whose aid they hoped to spread 
disaffection through the entire force. 

The afternoon of the 9th was passed in anxious preparation by 
both the conspirators and those whom they were about to attack. 
The king and queen were not destitute of faithful adherents, 
whom their very danger only rendered the more zealous to place 
all their strength, their valor, and, as they truly foreboded, their 
lives, at the disposal of their honored and threatened sovereigns. 
The veteran Marshal de Mailly, one of those gallant nobles whose 
devoted loyalty had been so scandalously insulted by La Fayette* 
in the spring of the preceding year, though now eighty years of 

* See ante. 



PREPARATIONS FOR RESISTANCE. 417 

age, hastened to the defense of his royal master and mistress, and 
brought with him a chivalrous phalanx of above a hundred gen- 
tlemen, all animated with the same self-sacrificing heroism as his 
own, to fight, or, if need should be, to die for their king and 
queen, though they had no arms but their swords. It seemed 
fortunate, too, that the command of the National Guard for the 
day fell by rotation to an ofiicer named Mandat, a man of high 
professional skill, intrepid courage, and unshaken in his zeal for 
the royal cause, though in former days the Constitutionalists had 
reckoned him among their adherents. His brigade numbered 
about two thousand four hundred men, on most of whom he 
could thoroughly rely. And it was no slight proof of his force 
of character and energy, as well as of his address, that, as the 
National Guard could not be employed out of the routine of their 
regular duty without a special authorization from the civil power, 
he contrived to extort from Petion, as mayor of the city, a form- 
al authority to augment his brigade for the special occasion, and, 
if force should be used against him, to repel it by force. 

The Swiss Guard of about a thousand men were all trustwor- 
thy ; and there was also a small body of heavy cavalry of the gen- 
darmery who had proved true enough to resist all the seductions 
of the conspirators. There were likewise a few cannon. In all, 
nearly four thousand men could be mustered for the defense of 
the palace ; a force, if well equipped and well led, not inadequate 
to the task of holding it out for some time against any num- 
ber of undisciplined assailants. But they were not well armed. 
They were nearly destitute of ammunition, and Mandat's most 
vehement entreaties and remonstrances could not wring out from 
Petion an order for a supply of cartridges, though, as he told 
him, several companies had not four rounds left, some had only 
one ; and though it was notorious that the police had served out 
ammunition to the Marseillese, who had no claim to a single bullet.' 
Still less were they well led ; for at such a crisis every thing de- 
pended on the king's example, and Louis was utterly wanting to 
himself. 

As night approached, the agitation in the palace, and still more 
in the city, grew more and more intense. It was a brilliant and 
a warm night. By ten o'clock the mob began to cluster in the 
streets, many only curious and anxious from uncertain fear ; those 
in the secret hastening toward the point of rendezvous. The riot- 
ers also had cannon, and by eleven their artiller3'-raen had taken 

27 



418 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

charge of their guns. The conspirators had got possession of all 
the churches ; and as the hour of midnight struck, a single can- 
non-shot gave the signal, and from every steeple and tower in the 
city the fatal tocsin began to peal. The insurrection was begun. 

Petion, who, from some motive which is not very intelligible, 
wished to save appearances, and who, though in fact he had been 
eager in promoting the insurrection, pretended innocence of all 
complicity in it even to the Assembly, whom he was aware that 
he was not deceiving, on the first sound of the bells repaired to 
the Hotel de Ville. He found, as indeed he was aware that he 
should find, a strange addition to the Municipal Council. The 
majority of the sections of the city had declared themselves in 
insurrection ; had passed resolutions that they would no longer 
obey the existing magistrates ; and had appointed a body of com- 
missioners to overbear them, trusting in the cowardice of the ma- 
jority, and in the willing acquiescence and co-operation of Danton 
and the other members of the party of violence. The commis- 
sioners seized on a room in the Hotel by the side of the regular 
council-room, and their first measures were marked with a cun- 
ning and unscrupulousness which largely contributed to the suc- 
cess of their more active comrades in the streets. Even Petion 
himself was not wicked enough or resolute enough for them. 
The authority which Mandat had wrung from him on the pre- 
vious morning was, in their eyes, a proof of unpardonable weak- 
ness. He might be terrified into issuing some other order which 
might disconcert or at least impede their plans ; and accordingly 
they put him under a kind of honorable arrest, and sent him to 
his own house under the guard of an armed force, which was in- 
structed to allow no one access to him ; and at the same time 
they sent an order in his name to Mandat to repair to the Hotel 
de Ville, to concert with them the measures necessary for the 
safety of the city. 

Had he acted on his own judgment, Mandat would have disre- 
garded the summons ; but M. Roederer urged upon him that he 
was bound to comply with an order brought in the name of the 
mayor. Accordingly he repaired to the H6tel de Ville, and gave 
to the Municipal Council so distinct an account of his measures, 
and of his reason for taking them, that, though Danton and some 
of his more factious colleagues reproached him for exhibiting 
what they called a needless distrust of the people, the majority 
of the Council approved of his conduct, and dismissed him to re- 



MURDER OF M AND AT. 419 

turn to his duties. But as he quit their chamber, he was dragged 
before the other body, the Commissioners of the Sections,* and 
subjected to another examination, which, as a matter of course, 
they conducted with every kind of insult and violence. The Mu- 
nicipal Council sent down a deputation to remonstrate with them ; 
they rose on the Council and expelled them from their own coun- 
cil-chamber by main force, and then sent off Mandat to prison, 
whither, a few minutes later, they dispatched a gang of assassins 
to murder him. 

The news of his death soon reached the Tuileries, where it 
struck a chill even into the firm heart of the queen,f who had 
deservedly placed great reliance on his fidelity and resolution. 
She had now to trust to the valor and loyalty of the troops 
themselves, though thus deprived of their commander ; and, as a 
last hope, she persuaded the king to go down and review them, 
hoping that his presence might animate the faithful, and perhaps 
fix the waverers. Louis consented, as he would have consented 
to any course that was recommended to him ; but on such occa- 
sions more depends oa the grace and spirit with which a thing is 
done than on the act itself, and grace and spirit were now less 
than ever to be looked for in the unhappy Louis., He visited 
first the courts of the palace, and the Carrousel, and then the gar- 
dens, at whose different entrances strong detachments of troops 
were stationed. When he first appeared he was greeted by one 
general cheer of " Vive le- roi !" But as he passed along the ranks 
the unanimity and loyalty began to disappear. Even of those 
regiments which were still true tO' him the cheers were faint, as 

* " Histoire de la Terreur," par Mortimer Ternaux, ii., p. 269. For the 
transactions of this day, and of the following months, he is by far the most 
trustworthy guide, as having had access to official documents of which earlier 
writers were ignorant. But he admits the extreme difficulty of ascertaining 
the precise details and time of each event. And it is not easy in every in- 
stance to reconcile his account with that of Madame de Campan, on whom for 
many particulars he greatly relies. He differs from her especially as to the 
hour at which the different occurrences of this day took place. For instance, 
he says (p. 268, note 2) that Mandat left the Tuileries a little after five, while 
Madame de Campan says it was four o'clock when the queen told her he had 
been murdered. Both, however, agree that it was soon after eight o'clock 
when the king left the palace. 

f " A quatre heures la reine sortit de la chambre du roi, et vint nous dire 
qu'elle n'esperait plus rien; que M. Mandat venait d'etre assassine." — Ma- 
dame DE Campan, ch. xxi. 



420 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

if half suppressed by alarm ; while many companies mingled 
shouts for " the nation " with those for himself, and individual 
soldiers murmured audibly, " Down with the Veto !" or, " Long 
live the Sans-culottes !" secure that their officers would not vent- 
ure to reprove, much less to chastise them. The Swiss Guard 
alone showed enthusiasm in their loyalty and resolution in their 
demeanor. 

But when he reached the artillery, on whom perhaps most de- 
pended, many of the gunners made no secret of their disaffection. 
Some even quit their ranks to offer him personal insults, dou- 
bling their fists in his face, and shouting out the coarsest threats 
which the Revolution had yet taught them. Both cheers and in- 
sults the hapless king received with almost equal apathy. The 
despair which was in his heart was shown in his dress, which had 
no military character or decoration, but was a suit of plain violet 
such as was never worn by kings of France but on occasions of 
mourning. It was to no purpose that the queen put a sword 
into his hand, and exhorted him to take the command of the 
troops himself, and to show himself ready to fight in person for 
his crown. It was only once or twice that he could even be 
brought to utter a few words of acknowledgment to those who 
treated him with respect, of expostulation to those who insulted 
and threatened him ; and presently, pale, and, as it seemed, ex- 
hausted with that slight effort, he returned to his apartments. 

The queen was almost in despair. She told Madame de Cam- 
pan that all was lost ; that the king had shown no energy ; that 
such a review as that had done harm rather than good. All that 
could now be done was for her to show herself not wanting to 
the occasion, nor to him. Her courage rose with the imminence 
of the danger. Those who beheld her, as with dilating eyes and 
heightened color she listened to the unceasing tumult, and, re- 
pressing every appearance of alarm, strove with unabated energy 
to rouse her husband, and to fortify the good disposition of the 
loyal friends around her, have described in terms of enthusiastic 
admiration the majestic dignity of her demeanor at this trying 
moment. She had need of all her presence of mind ; for even 
among those who were most faithful to her dissensions were 
springing up. At the first alarm Marshal de Mailly and his copi- 
pany of gallant nobles and gentlemen had hastened to her side , 
but the National Guards were jealous of them. It seemed as if 
they expected to be allowed to remain nearest to the royal per- 



THE INSUEGENTS VNDER SANTERRE. 421 

son ; and tlie soldiers disdained to yield the post of honor to men 
who were not in uniform, and whom, as they were mostly in 
court dress, they even disliked as aristocrats. They besought the 
queen to dismiss them. " Never !" she replied ; and, trusting 
rather that the example of their self-sacrificing devotion might 
stimulate those who thus complained, and full of that royal mag- 
nanimity which feels that it confers honor on those whom it 
trusts, and that it has a right to look for the loyalty of its serv- 
ants even to the death, she added,. " They will serve with you, and 
share your dangers. They will fight with you in the van, in the 
rear, where you will. They will show you how men can die for 
their king." 

But meanwhile the insurgents were rapidly approaching the 
palace, and already the tramp of the leading column might be 
heard. The tocsin had continued its ominous sound throughout 
the night, and at six in the morning the main body of the insur- 
gents, twenty thousand strong, and well armed — for the new coun- 
cil had opened to them the stores of the arsenal — began their 
march under the command of Santerre. As they advanced they 
were joined by the Marseillese, who had been quartered in a bar- 
rack near the Hall of the Cordeliers, and their numbers were fur- 
ther swelled by thousands of the populace. Soon after eight 
they reached the Carrousel, forced the gates, and pressed on to 
the royal court, the National Guard and Swiss falling back before 
them to the entrance to the royal apartments, where the more 
confined space seemed to aSord a better prospect of making an 
effectual resistance. 

But already the palace was deserted by those who were the in- 
tended objects of the attack. Roederer, and one or two of the 
municipal magistrates, in whom the indignity with which the 
new commissioners of the sections had treated them had excited 
a feeling of personal indignation, had been actively endeavoring 
to rouse the National Guards to an energetic resistance ; but they 
had wholly failed. Those who listened to them most favorably 
would only promise to defend themselves if attacked, while some 
of the artillery-men drew the charges from their guns and extin- 
guished their matches. Roederer, whom the strange vicissitudes 
of the crisis had for the moment rendered the king's chief ad- 
viser, though there seems no reason to doubt his good faith, was 
not a man of that fiery courage which hopes against hope, and 
can stimulate waverers by its example. He saw that if the riot- 



422 LIFE OF MAEIE ANTOINETTE. 

ers should succeed in storming the palace, and should find the 
king and his family there, the moment that made them masters 
of their persons would be the last of their lives and of the mon- 
archy. He returned into the palace to represent to Louis the utter 
hopelessness of making any defense, and to recommend him, as 
his sole resource, to claim the protection of the Assembly. The 
queen, who, to use her own words, would have preferred being 
nailed to the walls of the palace to seeking a refuge which she 
deemed degrading, pointed to the soldiers, and showed by her 
gestures that they were the only protectors whom it became them 
to look to. Roederer assured her that they could not be relied 
on. She seemed unconvinced. He almost forgot his respect in 
his earnestness. " If you refuse, madame, you will be guilty of 
the blood of the king, of your two children ; you will destroy 
yourself, and every soul within the palace." While she was still 
hesitating between her feeling of shame and her anxiety for those 
dearest to her, the king gave the word. " Let us go," said he. 
" Let us give this last proof of our devotion to the Constitution." 
The princess spoke. " Could Roederer answer for the king's 
life?" He affirmed that he would answer for it with his own. 
The queen repeated the question. '' Madame," he replied, " we 
will answer for dying at your side — that is all that we can prom- 
ise." " Let us go," said Louis, and moved toward the door. 
Even at the last moment, one officer, M. Boscari, commander of a 
battalion of the National Guard, known as that of Les Filles St. 
Thomas, whose loyalty no disaster had ever been able to shake, 
implored him to change his mind. His men, united to the Swiss, 
would be able, he said, to cut a way for the royal family to the 
Rouen road ; the insurgents were all on the other side of the city, 
and nothing could resist him. But again, as on all previous oc- 
casions, Louis rejected the brave advice. He pleaded the risk to 
which he should expose those dearest to him, and led them to 
almost certain death in committing them to the Assembly. Some 
of De Mailly's gentlemen gathered round him to accompany him ; 
but such an escort seemed to Roederer likely to provoke addi- 
tional animosity, and at his entreaty Louis trusted himself to a 
company of his faithful Swiss and to a detachment of the Na- 
tional Guard, who formed themselves into an escort to conduct 
him to the Assembly, whose hall looked into one side of the 
palace garden. 

The minister for foreign affairs walked at his side. The queen 



CONDUCT OF THE ASSEMBLY. 423 

leaned on the arm of M. Duboucliage, the minister of marine, and 
witli the other hand led the dauphin. The Princess Elizabeth 
and the princess royal followed with another minister. And 
thus, with the Princess de Lamballe, Madame de Tourzel, and one 
or two other ministers and attendants, the royal family left the 
palace of their ancestors, which only one of them was ever to 
behold again. As they quit the saloon, moved down the stairs, 
and crossed the garden, their every step was one toward a down- 
fall and a destruction which could never be retraced. Marie An- 
toinette felt it to be so, and, as she reached the foot of the stair- 
case, cast restless and anxious glances around, looking perhaps 
even then for any prospect of succor or of effectual resistance 
which might present itself. One of the Swiss misunderstood 
her, and with rude fidelity endeavored to encourage her. " Fear 
nothing, madame," said he, " your majesty is surrounded by hon- 
est citizens." She laid her hand on her heart. " I do fear noth- 
ing," and passed on without another word. 

As they crossed the garden the king broke the silence. " How 
unusually early," he remarked, " the leaves fall this year !" To 
those who heard him, the bareness which he remarked seemed an 
omen of the fate which awaited himself, about to be stripped of 
his royal dignity ; perhaps even, like some superfluous crowder of 
the grove, to fall beneath the axe. The Assembly had already 
been deliberating whether it should invite him to take refuge 
with them when they heard that he was approaching. It was 
instantly voted that a deputation should be sent to meet him, 
which, after a few words of respectful salutation, fell in behind. 
A vast crowd was collected outside the doors of the hall. They 
hooted the king, and, still more bitterly, the queen, as they ad- 
vanced. " Down with Veto !" was the chief cry ; but mingled 
with it were still more unmanly insults, invoking more especially 
death on all the women. But the Guards kept the mob at a dis- 
tance, though when they reached the hall the Jacobins made an 
effort to deprive them of that protection. They declared that it 
was illegal for soldiers to enter the hall, as indeed it was ; yet 
without them the princes must at the last moment have been ex- 
posed to all the fury of the mob. At this critical moment Roe- 
derer showed both fidelity and presence of mind. He implored 
the deputies to suspend the law which forbade the entrance of 
the troops, and, while the Jacobins were reviling him and his 
proposal, he pretended to suppose that it had been agreed to. 



424 LIFE OF 3IABIE ANTOINETTE. 

and led forward a detachment of soldiers who cleared the way. 
One grenadier took up the dauphin in his arms and carried him 
in ; and, although the pressure of the crowd was extreme, at last 
the whole family were placed within the hall in such safety as the 
Assembly was able or disposed to afford them. 

Louis bore himself not without dignity. His words were few 
but calm. " I am-come here to prevent a great crime. I think I 
can not be better placed, nor more safely, gentlemen, than among 
you." The president, who happened to be Vergniaud, while ap- 
pearing to desire to give him confidence, yet avoided uttering a 
single word, except the simple address of " sire,^' which should 
be a recognition of the royal dignity, if indeed his speech was 
not a studied disavowal of it. Louis might reckon, he said, on 
the firmness of the National Assembly : its members had sworn 
to die in support of the rights of the people and of the consti- 
tuted authorities : and then, on the plea that the Assembly must 
continue its deliberations, and that the law forbade them to be 
conducted in the presence of the sovereign, he assigned him and 
his family a little box behind the president's chair, which was 
usually set apart for the reporters of the debates. A Jacobin 
deputy proposed their removal into one of the committee-rooms, 
with the idea, as he afterward boasted, that it would be easy 
there to admit a band of assassins to murder them all ; but Ver- 
gniaud and his party divined his object and overruled him. It 
might seem that the Girondins, though they had been the original 
promoters aud chief organizers of the insurrection, were as yet 
disposed to be content with the overthrow of the throne, and had 
not arrived at the hardihood which can not be sated without 
murder; and it is a remarkable instance of the rapidity with 
which unprincipled men sink deeper and deeper into iniquity, 
that they who now exerted themselves successfully to save the 
life of Louis, five months afterward were as unanimous as the 
most ferocious Jacobins in destroying him. 

One object of Louis in abandoning his palace had been to save 
the lives of the National Guards and of the Swiss, by withdraw- 
ing them from what he regarded as an unequal combat with the 
infuriated multitude ; and of the National Guard the greater part 
did escape, drawing off silently in small detachments, when the 
sovereign whom it had been their duty to defend, seemed no 
longer to require their service. But the Swiss remained bravely 
at their posts around the royal staircase, though, as they abstain- 



BRAVERY OF THE SWISS GUARDS. 425 

ed from provoking the rioters by any active opposition, which 
now seemed to have no object, they hoped that they might es- 
cape attack. But the mob and Santerre were bent on their de- 
struction. Some of the insurgents tried to provoke them by 
threats. Some endeavored to tamper with them to desert their 
allegiance. But an accidental interruption suddenly terminated 
their brief period of inaction. In the confusion a pistol went off, 
and the Swiss fancied it was meant as a signal for an assault upon 
them. Thinking that the time was come to defend their own 
lives, they leveled their muskets and fired : they charged down 
the steps, driving the insurgents before them like sheep ; they 
cleared the inner or royal court, forced their way into the Car- 
rousel, recovered the cannon which were posted in the large 
square, and were so completely victorious that, had there been 
any superior ofiicer at hand to direct their movements, they might 
even now have checked the insurrection. 

There' might even have been some hope had not Louis himself 
actually interfered to check their exertions. Hearing what they 
had accomplished, the gallant D'Hervilly made his way to them, 
and called on them to follow him to the rescue of the king. 
They hesitated, unwilling to leave their wounded comrades to the 
mercy of their enemies ; but their hesitation was brief, for it was 
put an end to by the wounded men themselves, who bid them 
hasten forward ; their duty, they told them, was to save the king ; 
for themselves, they could but die where they lay.* There were 
still plenty of gallant spirits to do their duty to the king, if he 
could but have been persuaded to take a right view of his duty to 
himself and to them. 

The Swiss gladly obeyed D'Hervilly's summons. Forming in 
close order, and as steady as on parade, they marched through the 
garden, one battalion moving toward the end opposite to the pal- 
ace, where there was a draw-bridge which it was essential to se- 
cure ; the other following D'Hervilly to the Assembly hall. Noth- 
ing could resist their advance : they forced their way up the stairs ; 
and in a few moments a young ofiicer, M. de Salis, at the head of 
a small detachment, sword in hand, entered the chamber. Some 
of the deputies shrieked and fled, while others, more calm, remind- 
ed him that armed men were forbidden to enter the hall, and or- 
dered him to retire. He refused, and sent his subaltern to the 

* " La Terreur," viii., p. 4. 



426 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOMETTE. 

king for orders. But Louis still held to his strange policy of non- 
resistance. Even the terrible scenes of the morning, and the de- 
liberate attack of an armed mob upon his palace, had failed to 
eradicate his unwillingness to authorize his own Guards to fight 
in his behalf, or to convince him that when his throne (perhaps 
even his life and the lives of all his family) was at stake, it was 
nobler to struggle for victory, and, if defeated, to die with arms 
in his hands, than tamely to sit still and be stripped of his kingly 
dignity by brigands and traitors. Could he but have summoned 
energy to put himself at the head of his faithful Guards, as we 
may be sure that his brave wife urged him to do ; could he have 
even sent them one encouraging order, one cheering word, there 
still might have been hope ; for they had already proved that no 
number of Santerre's ruffians could stand before them.* But 
Louis could not even now bring himself to act ; he could only 
suffer. His command to the officer, the last he ever issued, was 
for the whole battalion to lay down their arms, to evacuate the 
palace, and to retire to their barracks. He would not, he said, 
that such brave men should die. They knew that in fact he was 
consigning them to death without honor ; but they were loyal to 
the last. They obeyed, though their obedience to the first part 
of the order rendered the last part impracticable. They laid down 
their arms, and were at once made prisoners ; and the fate of pris- 
oners in such hands as those of their captors was certain. A small 
handful, consisting, it is said, of fourteen men, escaped through the 
courage of one or two friends, who presently brought them plain 
clothes to exchange for their uniforms, but before night all the 
rest were massacred. 

Not more fortunate were their comrades of the other battalion, 
except in falling by a more soldier-like death. Though no long- 
er supported by the detachment under D'Hervilly, they succeeded 
in forcing their way to the draw-bridge. It was held by a strong 
detachment of the National Guard, who ought to have received 
them as comrades, but who had now caught the contagion of suc- 
cessful treason, and fired on them as they advanced. But the gal- 

* It is clear that this is the opinion formed by M. Mortimer Ternaux. He 
sums up the fourth chapter of his eightli book with the conclusion that " le 
palais de la royaute ne fut pas enleve de vive force, mais abandonne par or- 
dre de Louis XVI." And in a note he affirms that the entire number of 
killed and wounded on the part of the rioters did not exceed one hundred 
and sixty " en chiffres ronds." 



MASSACRE OF THE SWISS. 427 

lant Swiss, in spite of their diminished numbers still invincible, 
charged through them, forced their way across the bridge into the 
Place Louis XV., and there formed themselves into square, re- 
solved to sell their lives dearly. It was all that was left to them 
to do. The mounted gendarmery, too, came up and turned against 
them. Hemmed in on all sides, they fell one after another ; Lou- 
is, who had refused to let them die for him, having only given 
their death the additional pang that it had been of no service to 
him. 

The retreat of the king had left the Tuileries at the mercy of 
the rioters. Furious to find that he had escaped them, they wreaked 
their rage on the lifeless furniture, breaking, hewing, and destroy- 
ing in every way that wantonness or malice could devise. Differ' 
ent articles which had belonged to the queen were the especial ob- 
jects of their wrath. Crowds of the vilest women arrayed them- 
selves in her dresses, or defiled her bed. Her looking-glasses were 
broken, with imprecations, because they had reflected her features. 
Her footmen were pursued and slaughtered because they had been 
wont to obey her. Nor were the monsters who slew them con- 
tented with murder. They tore the dead bodies into pieces ;■ de- 
voured the still bleeding fragments, or deliberately lighted fires 
and cooked them ; or, hoisting the severed limbs on pikes, carried 
them in fiendish triumph through the streets. 

And while these horrors were going on in the palace, the tumult 
in the Assembly was scarcely less furious. The majority of the 
members — all, indeed, except the Girondins and Jacobins, who were 
secure in their alliance with the ringleaders — were panic-stricken. 
Many fled, but the rest sat still, and in terrified helplessness voted 
whatever resolutions the fiercest of the king's enemies chose to 
propose. It was an ominous preliminary to their deliberations 
that they admitted a deputation from the commissioners of the 
sections into the hall, where Guadet, to whom Vergniaud had sur- 
rendered the president's chair, thanked them for their zeal, and as- 
sured them that the Assembly regarded them as virtuous citizens 
only anxious for the restoration of peace and order. They were 
even formally recognized as the Municipal Council ; and then, on 
the motion of Vergniaud, the Assembly passed a series of resolu- 
tions, ordering the suspension of Louis from all authority ; his 
confinement in the Luxembourg Palace ; the dismissal and im- 
peachment of his ministers ; the re-appointment of Roland and 



428 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

those of his colleagues whom he had dismissed, and the immedi- 
ate election of a National Convention, A large pecuniary reward 
was even voted for the Marseillese, and for similar gangs from 
one or two other departments which had been brought up to 
Paris to take a part in the insurrection. 

Yet so deeply seated were hope and confidence in the queen's 
heart, so sanguine was her trust that out of the mutual enmity of 
the populace and the Assembly safety would still be wrought for 
the king and the monarchy, that even while the din of battle was 
raging outside the hall, and inside deputy after deputy was rising 
to heap insults on the king and on herself, or to second Vergni- 
aud's resolutions for his formal degradation, she could still be- 
lieve that the tide was about to turn in her favor. While the up- 
roar was at its height she turned to D'Hervilly, who still kept his 
post, faithful and fearless, at his master's side. " Well, M. d'Her- 
villy," said she, with an air, as M. Bertrand, who tells the story, de- 
scribes it, of the most perfect security, " did we not do well not 
to leave Paris ?" " I pray God," said the brave noble, " that your 
majesty may be able to ask me the same question in six months' 
time."* His foreboding was truer than her hopes. In less than 
six months she was a desolate, imprisoned widow, helplessly await- 
ing her own fate from her husband's murderers. 

All these resolutions of Vergniaud, all the ribald abuse with 
which different members supported them, the unhappy sovereigns 
were condemned to hear in the narrow box to which they had 
been removed. They bore the insults, the queen with her ha- 
bitual dignity, the king with his inveterate apathy ; Louis even 
speaking occasionally with apparent cheerfulness to some of the 
deputies. The constant interruptions protracted the discussions 
through the entire day. It was half-past three in the morning 
before the Assembly adjourned, when the king and his family 
were removed to the adjacent Convent of the Feuillants, where 
four wretched cells had been hastily furnished with camp-beds, 
and a few other necessaries of the coarsest description. So little 
was any attempt made to disguise the fact that they were prison- 
ers, that their own domestic servants were not allowed the next 
day to attend them till they had received a formal ticket of ad- 
mittance from the president. Yet even in this extremity of dis- 

* Bertrand de Moleville, ch. xxvii. 



THE KINO AND QUEEN PRISONERS. 429 

tress Marie Antoinette thought of others rather than of herself; 
and when at last her faithful attendant, Madame de Carapan, ob- 
tained access to her, her first words expressed how greatly her 
own sorrows were aggravated by the thought that she had in- 
volved in them those loyal friends whose attachment merited a 
very different recompense.* 

* Madame de Campan, ch. xxi. 



430 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Indignities to which the Royal Family are subjected. — They are removed to 
the Temple. — Divisions in the Assembly. — Flight of La Fayette. — Advance 
of the Prussians. — Lady Sutherland supplies the Dauphin with Clothes. — 
Mode of Life in the Temple. — The Massacres of September. — The Death of 
the Princess de Lamballe. — Lisults are heaped on the King and Queen. — 
The Trial of the King. — His Last Interview with his Family. — His Death. 

From the lltli of August the Hfe of Marie Antoinette is almost 
a blank to us. We may be even thankful that it is so, and that 
we are spared the details, in all their accumulated miseries, of 
a series of events which are a disgrace to human nature. For 
month after month the gentle, benevolent king, whom no sover- 
eign ever exceeded in love for his people, or in the exercise of ev- 
ery private virtue ; the equally pure-minded, charitable, and patri- 
otic queen, who, to the somewhat passive excellences of her hus- 
band, added fascinating graces and lofty energies of which he 
was unhappily destitute, were subjected to the most disgusting in- 
dignities, to the tyranny of the vilest monsters who ever usurped 
authority over a nation, and to the daily insults of the meanest 
of their former subjects, who thought to make a merit with their 
new masters of their brutality to those whose birthright had been 
the submission and reverence of all around them. 

Vergniaud's motion had only extended to the suspension of 
the king from his functions till the meeting of the Convention ; 
but no one could doubt that that suspension would never be taken 
oS, and that Louis was in fact dethroned. Marie Antoinette 
never deceived herself on the point, and, retaining the opinion as 
to the fate of deposed monarchs which she had expressed three 
years before, pronounced that all was over with them, " My 
poor children," said she, apostrophizing the little dauphin and his 
sistei', " it is cruel to give up the hope of transmitting to you so 
noble an inheritance, and to have to say that all is at an end with 
ourselves ;" and, lest any one else should have any doubt on the 
subject, the Assembly no longer headed its decrees with any roy- 
al title, but published them in the name of the nation. In one 



THE TEMPLE. 431 

point the resolutions of the 10th were slightly departed from. 
The municipal authorities reported that the Luxembourg had so 
many outlets and subterranean passages, that it would be difficult 
to prevent the escape of a prisoner from that palace ; and accord- 
ingly the destination of the royal family was changed to the Tem- 
ple. Thither, after having been compelled to spend two more 
days in the Assembly, listening to the denunciations and threats 
of their enemies, whom even the knowledge that they were wholly 
in their power failed to pacify, they were conveyed on the 1 3th ; 
and they never quit it till they were dragged forth to die. 

The Temple had been, as its name imported, the fortress and 
palace of the Knights Templars, and, having been erected by 
them in the palmy days of their wealth and magnificence, con- 
tained spacious apartments, and extensive gardens protected from 
intrusion by a lofty wall, which surrounded the whole. It was 
not unfit for, nor unaccustomed to, the reception of princes ; for 
the Count d'Artois had fitted up a portion of it for himself when- 
ever he visited the capital. And to his apartments those who had 
the custody of the king and queen at first conducted them. But 
the new Municipal Council, whom the recent events had made 
the real masters of Paris, considered those rooms too comfortable 
or too honorable a lodging for any prisoners, however royal ; and 
the same night, before they could retire to rest, and while Louis 
was still occupying himself in distributing the different apart- 
ments among the members of his family and the few attendants 
who were allowed to share his captivity, an order was sent down 
to remove them all into a small dilapidated tower which had been 
used as a lodging for some of the count's footmen, but whose bad 
walls and broken windows rendered it unfit for even the servants 
of a prince. Besides their meanness and ruinous condition, the 
number of the rooms it contained was so scanty, that for the first 
few days the only room that could be found for the Princess 
Elizabeth was an old, disused kitchen ; and even after that was 
remedied, she was forced to share her new chamber, though it 
was both small and dark, with her niece, Madame Royale ; while 
the dauphin's bed was placed by the side of the queen's, in one 
which was but little larger.* And the dungeon-like appearance 
of the entire place impressed the whole family with the idea that 

* " Dernieres Annees du Regne et de la Vie de Louis XVI.," par Francois 
Hue, p. 336. 



432 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

it was not intended that tliey should remain there long, but that 
an early death was preparing for them. 

Even this distress was speedily aggravated by a fresh severity. 
Four days afterward an order was sent down which commanded 
the removal of all their attendants, with the exception of one or 
two menial servants. Madame de Tourzel, the governess of the 
royal children, was driven away with the coarsest insults. The 
Princess de Lamballe, that most faithful and affectionate friend 
of the queen, was rudely torn from her embrace by the municipal 
officers; and, though no offense was even imputed to her, was 
dragged off to a prison, where she was soon to pay the forfeit of 
her loyalty with her blood. 

From this time forth the king and queen were completely cut 
off from the outer world. They were treated with a rigor which 
in happier countries is not even experienced by convicted crimi- 
nals. They were forbidden to receive letters or newspapers ; and 
presently they were deprived of pens, ink, and paper; though 
they would neither have desired to write nor receive letters which 
would have been read by their jailers, and could only have ex- 
posed their correspondents to danger. After a few days they 
were even deprived of the attendance of all their servants but 
two* — a faithful valet named Clery (fidelity such as his may well 
immortalize his name), to whom we are indebted for the greater 
part of the scanty knowledge which we possess of the fate of the 
captive princes as long as Louis himself was permitted to live ; 
and Turgy, a cook, who, by an act of faithful boldness, had ob- 
tained a surreptitious entrance into the Temple, and whose serv- 
ices seemed to have escaped notice, though at a later period they 
proved of no trivial importance. 

Had they but known what was passing in the Assembly, Marie 
Antoinette would in all probability have still found matter for 
some comfort and hope in the fierce mutual strife of the Jacobins 
and Girondins, which for some weeks kept the Assembly in a con- 
stant state of agitation ; and she would have found even greater 
encouragement in the dissatisfaction which in many departments 
the people expressed at the late events ; and in the conduct of La 
Fayette's army, which at first cordially approved of and support- 

* For about a fortnight they had two, both men — Hue, the valet to the 
dauphin, as well as Clery ; but Hue was removed on the 2d of September. 
He, as well as Clery, has left an account of the imprisonment till the day of 
his dismissal. 



THE ROTAL FAMILY ENDURE PRIVATIONS. 433 

ed the town-council and magistrates of Sedan, who arrested and 
threw into prison the commissioners whom the Assembly had 
sent to announce the suspension of the royal authority. But the 
intelligence of that demonstration in their favor never reached 
them, nor that of its suppression a few days later ; when La Fay- 
ette, who, as on a former occasion, had committed himself to 
measures beyond his strength to carry out, was forced to fly from 
the country, and by a strange violation of military law was thrown 
into an Austrian prison. Nor again, when for a moment the 
Duke of Brunswick appeared likely to realize the hopes on which 
Marie Antoinette had built so confidently, and by the capture of 
Longwy seemed to have opened to himself the road to Paris, did 
any tidings of his achievement come to the ears of those who had 
felt such deep interest in his operations. After a time the inge- 
nuity of Clery found a mode of obtaining for them some little 
knowledge of what was passing outside, by contriving that some 
of his friends should send criers to cry an abstract of the news 
contained in the daily journals under his windows, which he in 
his turn faithfully reported to them while employed in such me- 
nial offices about their persons as took off the attention of their 
guards, who day and night maintained an unceasing espial on all 
their actions and even words. 

From the very first they had to endure strange privations for 
princes. They had not even a sufficient supply of clothes ; the 
little dauphin, in particular, would have been wholly unprovided, 
had not the English embassadress, Lady Sutherland, whose son 
was of a similar age and size, sent in a stock of such as she 
thought might be wanted. But as the garments thus received 
wore out, and as all means of replacing them were refused, the 
queen and princess were reduced to ply their own needles dili- 
gently to mend the clothes of the whole family, that they might 
not appear to their jailers, or to the occupants of the surrounding 
houses, who from their windows could command a view of the 
garden in which they took their daily walks, absolutely ragged. 

Such enforced occupation must indeed in some degree have 
been welcome as a relief from thought, which their unbroken sol- 
itude left them but too much leisure to indulge. Clery has given 
us an account of the manner in which their day was parceled out.* 
The king rose at six, and Clery, after dressing his hair, descended 

* " Journal de ce qui s'est passe k la tour du Temple," etc., p. 28, seq. 

28 



434 LIFE OF MAEIE ANTOINETTE. 

to the queen's chamber, which was on the story below, to perform 
the same service for her and for the rest of the family. And the 
hour so spent brought with it some slight comfort, as he could 
avail himself of that opportunity to mention any thing that he 
mio-ht have learned of what was passing out-of-doors, or to re- 
ceive any instructions which they might desire to give him. At 
nine they breakfasted in the king's room. At ten they came 
down -stairs again to the queen's apartments, where Louis oc- 
cupied himself in giving the dauphin lessons in geography, while 
Marie Antoinette busied herself in a corresponding manner with 
Madame Royale. But, in whatever room they were, their guards 
were always present ; and when, at one o'clock, they went down- 
stairs to walk in the garden, they were still accompanied by sol- 
diers : the only member of the family who was not exposed to 
their ceaseless vigilance being the little dauphin, who was allowed 
to run up and down and play at ball with Clery, without a soldier 
thinking it necessary to watch all his movements or listen to all 
his childish exclamations. At two dinner was served, and regu- 
larly at that hour the odious Santerre, with two other ruffians of 
the same stamp, whom he called his aids-de-camp, visited them 
to make sure of their presence and to inspect their rooms; and 
Clery remarked that the queen never broke her disdainful silence 
to him, though Louis often spoke to him, generally to receive 
some answer of brutal insult. After dinner, Louis and Marie An- 
toinette would play piquet or backgammon ; as, while they were 
thus engaged, the vigilance of their keepers relaxed, and the noise 
of shuffling the cards or rattling the dice afforded them oppor- 
tunities of saying a few words in whispers to one another, which 
at other times would have been overheard. In the evening the 
queen and the Princess Elizabeth read aloud, the books chosen 
being chiefly works of history, or the masterpieces of Corneille 
and Racine, as being most suitable to form the minds and tastes 
of the children ; and sometimes Louis himself would seek to di- 
vert them from their sorrows by asking the children riddles, and 
finding some amusement in their attempts to solve them. At 
bed -time the queen herself made the dauphin say his prayers, 
teaching him especially the duty of praying for others, for the 
Princess de Lamballe, and for Madame de Tourzel, his governess ; 
though even those petitions the poor boy was compelled to utter 
in whispers, lest, if they were repeated to the Municipal Council, 
he should bring ruin on those whom he regarded as friends. At 



THE REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL. 435 

ten the family separated for the night, a sentinel making his bed 
across the door of each of their chambers, to prevent the possibil- 
ity of any escape. 

In this way they passed a fortnight, when the monotony of 
their lives was fearfully disturbed. The Jacobins had established 
their ascendency. They had created a Revolutionary Tribunal, 
which at once began its course of wholesale condemnation, send- 
ing almost every one who was brought before it to the scaffold 
with merely a form of trial ; the guillotine being erected, as it 
was said, en permanence, that the deaths of the victims might nev- 
er be delayed for want of means to execute them ; while, that a 
succession of victims might never be wanting, Danton, in his new 
character of Minister of Justice, instituted a search of every house 
for arms or papers, or any thing which might afford evidence or 
even suggest a suspicion that the owners disliked or feared the 
new authorities. 

But it was not enough to strike terror into all the peaceful cit- 
izens. The Girondins had always been objects of jealous rivalry 
to the Jacobins. Fanatical and relentless as they were in their 
cruelty, they had recently given proofs that they disapproved of 
the furious blood-thirstiness that was beginning to decimate the 
city, and they had carried the Assembly with them in a vote for 
the dissolution of the new Municipal Council, At the same time, 
intelligence of the Prussian successes reached the capital, intelli- 
gence which, it seemed possible, might animate the Royalists to 
some fresh effort ; and, lest they should find means of reconciling 
themselves to Vergniaud and his party, the Jacobins and Corde- 
liers resolved to give both a lesson by a deed of blood which 
should strike terror into them. We may spare ourselves the pain 
of relating the horrors of the September massacre, when, for 
more than four days, gangs of men worse than devils, and of 
women unsexed by profligacy and cruelty till they had become 
worse even than the men, gave themselves up to the work of in- 
discriminate slaughter, deluging the streets with blood, and, where 
they could spare time, aggravating the pangs of death by superflu- 
ous tortures. It will be sufficient for our purpose to record the 
fate of one of the most innocent of all the victims, who owed her 
death to the fact that she had long been the queen's most chosen 
friend, and whose murder was gloated over with special ferocity 
by the monsters who perpetrated it, as enabling them to inflict an 
additional pang on her wretched friend and mistress. 



436 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

Madame de Lamballe, as we have seen, had accompanied the 
queen to the Temple on the first day of her captivity, and had 
subsequently been removed to one of the city prisons known as 
La Force. It was on the prisoners in the different places of con- 
finement that the work of death was to be done : and she had 
been specially marked out for slaughter, not solely because she 
was beloved by Marie Antoinette, but also, it was understood, be- 
cause, as she was very rich, and sister-in-law to the Due d'Orleans, 
that detestable prince desired to add her inheritance to his own 
already vast riches. She was dragged before Hebert, one of the 
foulest of the Jacobin crew, who had taken his seat at the gate 
of the prison to preside over the trials, as they were called, of the 
prisoners in La Force. " Swear," said he, " devotion to liberty 
and to the nation, and hatred to the king and queen, and you 
shall live." " I will take the first oath," she replied, " but the 
second never ; it is not in my heart. The king and queen I have 
ever loved and honored." Almost before she had finished speak- 
ing she was pushed into the gate-way. One ruffian struck her 
from behind with his sabre. She fell. They tore her into pieces. 
A letter of the queen's fell from her hair, in which she had hid- 
den it. The sight of it redoubled the assassins' fury. They 
stuck her head on a pike, and carried it in triumph to the Palais 
Royal to display it to D'Orleans, who was feasting with some of 
the companions of his daily orgies, and then proceeded to the 
Temple to brandish it before the eyes of the queen. 

It was about three o'clock.* Dinner had just been removed, 
and the king and queen were sitting down to play backgammon, 
when horrid shouts were heard in the street. One of the soldiers 
on guard in the room, who had not yet laid aside every feeling of 
humanity, closed the window and even drew the curtain. Anoth- 
er of different temper insisted that Louis should come to the win- 
dow and show himself. As the uproar increased, the queen rose 
from her seat, and the king asked what was the matter. " Well," 
said the man, " since you wish to know, they want to show you 
the head of Madame de Lamballe." No event that had yet oc- 
curred had struck the queen with such anguish. The uproar in- 
creased'. Those who bore the head had wished even to force the 
doors, and bring their trophy, still bleeding, into the very room 
where the royal family were, and were only prevented by a com- 

* " M^moires Particuliers," par Madame la Duchesse d'Angouleme, p. 21. 



INSULTS OF THE GUARDS. 437 

promise whicli permitted them to parade it round their tower in 
triumph. As the shouts died away, Petion's secretary arrived 
with a small sum of money which had been issued for the king's 
use. He noticed that the queen stood all the time that he was 
in the room, and fancied she assumed that attitude out of respect 
to the mayor. She had never stirred since she had heard of the 
princess's death, but had stood rooted, as it were, to the ground, 
stupefied and speechless with horror and anguish. It was long be- 
fore she could be restored ; and all through the night the rest of 
the princesses, if at least they could have slept, was broken by her 
sobs, which never ceased. 

As time passed on, the prospects of the unhappy prisoners be- 
came still more gloomy. On the 21st of September the Conven- 
tion met, and its first act was to abolish royalty and declare the 
government a republic, and an ofiicer was instantly sent to make 
proclamation of the event under the Temple walls ; and, as if the 
establishment of a republic authorized an increase of insolence on 
the part of the guards of the prisoners, the insults to which they 
were subjected grew more frequent and more gross. Sentences 
both menacing and indecent were written on the walls where they 
must catch their eye ; the soldiers puffed their tobacco-smoke in 
the queen's face as she passed, or placed their seats in the passages 
so much in her way that she could hardly avoid stumbling over 
their legs as she went down to the garden. Sometimes they even 
assailed her with direct abuse, calling her the assassin of the peo- 
ple, who in their turn would assassinate her. More than once the 
whole family had to submit to a personal search, and to empty 
their pockets, when the officers who made the search carried off 
whatever they chose to term suspicious, especially their knives 
and scissors, so that, when at Avork, the queen and princess were 
forced to bite off the threads with their teeth. And amidst all 
this misery no one ever heard Marie Antoinette utter a word to 
lament her own fate, or to ask pity for herself. She mourned 
over her husband's fall ; she pitied Elizabeth, to whom malice it- 
self could not impute a share in the wrongs of which Danton and 
Vergniaud had taught the people to complain. Most of all did 
she bewail the ruined prospects of her son ; and more than once 
she brought tears into Clery's eyes by the earnest tenderness with 
which she implored him to provide for the safety of the noble 
child after his parents should have been destroyed. 

The insults increased, each being an additional omen of the 



438 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

future. The most painful injuries were reserved for the queen. 
Toward the end of October the dauphin was removed from her 
apartment to that of the king, that she might thus be deprived 
of the comfort of ministering to his daily wants. But Louis him- 
self was not spared. One day an order came down to deprive 
him of his sword ; on another he was stripped of his different 
decorations and orders of knighthood. The system of espial, 
too, was carried out with increased severity. Their linen, when 
it came back from the washer -woman, and even their washing- 
bills, were held to the fire to see if any invisible ink had been 
employed to communicate with them. Their loaves and biscuits 
were cut asunder lest they should contain notes. The end was 
approaching. A week or two later the king was removed to an- 
other tower, and was only permitted to see his family during a 
certain portion of the day. At last it was determined to bring 
him to trial. On the 11th of December he was suddenly inform- 
ed that he was to be brought before the Convention ; and from 
that day forth he w^as cut off from all intercourse with his family, 
even his wife being forbidden to see or hear from him. The bar- 
barous restriction afforded him one more opportunity of showing 
his amiable unselfishness and fortitude. The regulation had been 
made by the Municipal Council, not by the Assembly ; and its in- 
human and unprecedented severity, coupled with a jealousy of the 
Council, as seeking to usurp the whole authority of the State, in- 
duced the Assembly to rescind it, and to grant permission for 
Louis to have the dauphin and his sister with him. Yet, lest 
these innocent children should prove messengei's of conspiracy 
between him and the queen and Elizabeth, it was ordered at the 
same time that, so long as they were allowed to visit him, they 
should be separated from their mother and their aunt ; and Louis, 
thoygh never in greater need of comfort, thought it so much bet- 
ter for the children themselves that they should be with the 
queen, that for their sakes he renounced their society, and al- 
lowed the decree of the Council to be carried out in all its piti- 
less cruelty. 

And, again, we may spare ourselves from dwelling on the de- 
tails of what, in hideous mockery, was called the king's trial, 
though it was in fact a mere ceremonious prelude to his murder, 
which had been determined on before it began. Deep as is the 
disgrace with which it has forever covered the nation which tol- 
erated such an abomination, it was relieved by some incidents 



TRIAL OF TEE KING. 439 

whicTi did honor to the country and to human nature. The mur- 
derers of Louis, in their ignoble pedantry, wearied the ear with 
appeals to the examples of the ancient Romans, of Decius* and 
of Brutus. But no Roman ever gave a nobler proof of contempt 
of danger, and devotion to duty, than was afforded by the in- 
trepid lawyers, Malesherbes, De Seze, and Tronchet, who volun- 
tarily undertook the king's defense, though Louis himself warn- 
ed them that their utmost efforts would be fruitless, and would 
only bring destruction on themselves without saving him. One 
member, too, of the Convention, Lanjuinais, though originally he 
had been a member of the Breton Club, and had latterly been gen- 
erally regarded as connected with the Girondins, made more than 
one eloquent effort in the king's behalf, provoking the Jacobins 
and Girondins to their very wildest fury by his contemptuous de- 
fiance of their menaces. And even when the verdict was being 
given ; when Jacobins, Girondins, and Cordeliers, Robespierre, 
Vergniaud, Danton, and the infamous Due d'Orleans were vying 
with one another in the eagerness with which they pushed for- 
ward to record their votes of condemnation ; and when a mob of 
hired ruffians, who thronged the hall, were cheering every vote for 
death, and holding daggers to the throat of every one from whom 
they apprehended a contrary judgment ; one noble of frail body, 
but of a spirit worthy of his birth and rank, the Marquis de Vil- 
lette, laughed in the faces of his threateners, looked the assassins 
in the face, and told them that he would not obey their orders, 
and that they dared not kill him ; and with a loud voice pro- 
nounced a vote of acquittal. 

But no courage or devotion of a few honest men could save 
Louis. One vote by an immense majority pronounced him guilty ; 
a second refused all appeal to the people ; a third, by a majority 
of fifty voices, condemned him to death. And on the morning 
of the 20th of January, 1793, Louis was roused from his bed to 
hear his sentence, and to learn that it was to be carried out the 
next day. 

While the trial lasted, the queen and those with her had been 
kept in almost absolute ignorance of what was taking place. They 

* Decius was the hero whose example was especially invoked by Madame 
Roland. The historians of his own country had never accused him of mur- 
dering any one ; but she, in the very first month of the Revolution, had call- 
ed, with a very curious reading of history, for " some generous Decius to risk 
his life to take theirs " (the lives of the king and queen). 



440 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

never, however, doubted what the result would be,* so that it was 
scarcely a shock to them when they heard the news-men crying the 
sentence under their windows — the only mercy that was shown to 
either the prisoner who was to die, or to those who were to sur- 
vive him, being that they were allowed once more to meet on 
earth. At eight in the evening the queen, his children, and his 
sister were to be allowed to visit him. He prepared for the in- 
terview with astonishing calmness, making the arrangements so 
deliberately that, when he noticed that Clery had placed a bot- 
tle of iced water on the table, he bid him change it, lest, if the 
queen should require any, the chill should prove injurious to her 
health. Even that last interview was not allowed to pass wholly 
without witnesses, since the Municipal Council refused, even on 
such an occasion, to relax their regulation that their guards were 
never to lose sight of the king ; and all that was permitted was 
that he might retire with his family into an inner room which 
had a glass door, so that, though what passed must be seen, their 
last words might not be overheard. His daughter, Madame Roy- 
ale, now a girl of fourteen, and old enough, as her mother had 
said a few months before, to realize the misery of the scenes 
which she daily saw around her, has left us an account of the in- 
terview, necessarily a brief one, for the queen and princess were 
too wretched to say much, Louis wept when he announced to 
them how short was the time which he had to live, but his tears 
were those of pity for the desolation of those he loved, and not 
of fear for himself. He was even, in some sense, a willing vic- 
tim, for, as he told them, it had been proposed to save him by ap- 
pealing to the primary Assemblies of the nation ; but he had re- 
fused his consent to a step which must throw the whole country 
into confusion, and might be the cause of civil war. He would 
rather die than risk the bringing of such calamities on his people. 
He even sought to comfort the queen by making some excuses 
for the monsters who had condemned him ; and his last words 
to his family were an entreaty to forgive them ; to his son, an in- 
junction never to seek to revenge his death, even if some change 
of fortune should enable him to do so. 

The queen said nothing, but sat clinging to him in speechless 



* The princess told Clery, " La reine et moi nous nous attendons h tout, et 
nous ne nous faisons aucune illusion sur le sort qu'on prepare au roi," etc. — 
Clery, p. 106. 



DEATH OF LOUIS. 441 

agony. At last he begged them to retire, that he might seek rest 
to prepare himself for the morrow ; and then she spoke, to beg 
that at least they might meet again the next morning. "Yes," 
said he, " at eight o'clock." " Why not at seven ?" asked she. 
" Well, then, at seven." But, after she had left him he deter- 
mined to avoid this second meeting, not so much because he 
feared its unnerving himself, but because he felt that the second 
parting must be too terrible for her. 

When she returned to her own chamber she had scarcely 
strength left to place the dauphin in his bed. She threw herself, 
dressed as she was, on her own bed, where her sister-in-law and 
daughter heard her, as the little princess describes her state, " shiv- 
ering with cold and grief the whole night long."* 

Even if she could have slept, her rest would soon have been 
disturbed by the movement of troops, the beating of the drums, 
and the heavy roll of the cannon passing through the street. For 
the miscreants who bore sway in the city knew^ well that the 
crime which they were about to commit was viewed with horror 
by the great majority of the nation, and even of the Parisians, 
and to the last moment were afraid of a rescue. But no one 
could interpose between Louis and his doom ; and the next intel- 
ligence of him that reached his wife, who was waiting the whole 
morning in painful anxiety for the summons to see him once 
more, was that he had perished beneath the fatal guillotine, and 
that she was a widow. 



" Memoires " de la Duchesse d'Angouleme, p. 53. 



442 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

The Queen is refused Leave to see Clery. — Madame Royale is taken HI. — 
Plans are formed for the Queen's Escape by MM. Jarjayes, Toulan, and by 
the Baron de Batz. — Marie Antoinette refuses to leave her Son. — Illness 
of the young King. — Overthrow of the Girondins. — Insanity of the Woman 
Tison. — Kindness of the Queen to her. — Her Son is taken from her, and 
intrusted to Simon. — His Ill-treatment. — The Queen is removed to the Con- 
ciergerie. — She is tried before the Revolutionary Tribunal. — She is con- 
demned. — Her last Letter to the Princess Elizabeth. — Her Death and Char- 
acter. 

Shouts in the streets announced to her and those around her 
that all was over. All the morning she had alarmed the princesses 
by the speechless, tearless stupor into which she seemed plunged ; 
but at last she roused herself, and begged to see Clery, who had 
been with Louis till he left the Temple, and who, therefore, she 
hoped, might have some last message for her, some last words of 
affection, some parting gift. And so indeed he had ;* for the last 
act of Louis had been to give that faithful servant his seal for the 
dauphin, and his ring for the queen, with a little packet contain- 
ing portions of her hair and those of his children which he had 
been in the habit of wearing. And he had bid him tell them all 
— " the queen, his dear children, and his sister — that he had prom- 
ised to see them that morning, but that he had desired to save 
them the pain of so cruel a separation. How much," he contin- 
ued, " does it cost me to go without receiving their last era- 
braces ! You must bear to them my last farewell." 

But even the poor consolation of receiving these sad tokens of 
unchanged affection was refused to her. The Council refused 
Clery admittance to her, aild seized the little trinkets and the 
packet of hair. The king's last words never reached her. But 
a few days afterward, Toulan, one of the commissioners of the 
Council, who sympathized with her bereavement, found means to 
send her the ring and seal.f Her sister and her daughter were 

* Clery's "Journal," p. 169. 

•J- In March, having an opportunity of communicating with the Count de 



THE PRINCESS ROTAL. 443 

the more anxious that she should see Clery, from the hope that 
conversation with him might bring on a flood of tears, which 
would have given her some relief. But her own fortitude was 
her best support. Miserable as she was, hopeless as she was, it 
was characteristic of her mao-nanimous courage that she did not 
long give way to womanly lamentations. She recollected that she 
had still duties to perform to the living, to her daughter and sis- 
ter, and, above all, to her son, now her king, whom, if some happi- 
er change of fortune, when the nation should have recovered from 
its present madness, should replace him on his father's throne, it 
must be her care to render worthy of such a restoration. She 
began to apply herself diligently to the work of giving him les- 
sons such as his father had given him, mingling them with the 
constant references to that father's example, which she never 
ceased to hold up to him, dwelling with the emphatic exaggera- 
tion of lasting affection on his gentleness, his benevolence, his 
love for his subjects ; qualities which, in truth, he had possessed 
in sufficient abundance, had he but been gifted with the courage 
and firmness indispensable to secure to his people the benefits he 
wished them to enjoy. 

She had too, for a time, another occupation. The princess 
royal was, as she had said not long before, of an age to feel keen- 
ly the miseries of her parents, and the agitation into which she 
had been thrown had its natural effect upon her health. Her own 

Provence, she sent these precious memorials to him for safer custody, with a 
joint letter from herself and her three fellow-prisoners : " Having a faithful 
person on whom we can depend, I profit by the opportunity to send to my 
brother and friend this deposit, which may not be intrusted to any other 
hands. The bearer will tell you by what a miracle we were able to obtain 
these precious pledges. I reserve the name of him who is so useful to us, to 
tell it you some day myself. The impossibility which has hitherto existed of 
sending you any intelligence of us, and the excess of our misfortunes, make 
us feel more vividly our cruel separation. May it not be long. Meanwhile I 
embrace you as I love you, and you know that that is with all my heart. — 
M. A." A line is added by the princess royal, and signed by her brother, as 
king, as well as by herself : " I am charged for my brother and myself to em- 
brace you with all my heart. — M. T. [Maria Teresa], Louis." And another by 
the Princess Elizabeth : " I enjoy beforehand the pleasure which you will feel 
in receiving this pledge of love and confidence. To be reunited to you and 
to see you happy is all that I desire. You know if I love you. I embrace 
you with all my heart. — E." The letters were shown by the Count de Pro- 
vence to Clery, whom he allowed to take a copy of them. — Clery's Journal, 
p. 1Y4. 



444 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

language on the subject affords a striking proof how well Marie 
Antoinette had succeeded in imbuing her with her own forgetful- 
ness of self. As she has recorded the occurrence in her journal, 
" Fortunately her affliction increased her illness to so serious a de- 
gree as to cause a favorable diversion to her mother's despair."* 

Youth, however, and a strong constitution prevailed, and the lit- 
tle princess recovered ; while other matters also for a time claimed 
a large share of her mother's attention. For herself, Marie An- 
toinette felt, as she well might feel, that, come what would, hap- 
piness and she were forever parted ; and the death to which she 
never doubted that her enemies destined her could hardly have 
been anticipated by her as any thing but a relief, if she had thought 
only of her own feelings. But, again, she had others to think of 
besides herself — of her children. And she presently learned that 
others were thinking of her, and were willing (it should rather be 
said were eager and proud) to encounter any danger, if they might 
only have the happiness and honor of securing and saving her 
whom they still regarded as their queen. Two had long been at- 
tached to the royal household : the wife of M. de Jarjayes, a gen- 
tleman, of ancient family in Dauphine, had been one of Marie An- 
toinette's waiting -women, and he himself, since the fatal expedi- 
tion to Varennes, had been employed by Louis on several secret 
missions. From the moment that his royal master was brought 
before the Convention he had despaired of his life, and had, there- 
fore, bent all his thoughts on the preservation of the queen. M. 
Turgy, the second, was in a humbler rank of life. He was, as we 
have seen, one of the officers of the kitchen ; but in the household 
of a king of France even the cooks had pretensions to gentle 
blood. A third was a man named Toulan, who had originally 
been a music - seller in Paris, but had subsequently obtained em- 
ployment under the Municipal Council, and was now a commis- 
sioner, with duties which brought him into constant contact with 
the imprisoned queen. Either he had never in his heart been her 
enemy, or he had been converted by the dignified fortitude with 
which she bore her miseries, and by the irresistible fascination 
which even in prison she still exercised over all whose hearts had 
not been hardened by fanatical wickedness against every manly or 
honest feeling ; he won the queen's confidence by the most wel- 
come service, which has been already mentioned, of conveying to 

* " Memoires " de la Duchesse d'Angouleme, p. 56. 



PLANa FOB HER ESCAPE. 445 

her her husband's seal and ring. She gave him a letter to rec- 
ommend him to the confidence of Jarjayes ; and their combined 
ingenuity devised a plan for the escape of the whole family. It 
was in their favor that a man, who came daily to look to the 
lamps, usually brought with him his two sons, who nearly match- 
ed the size of the royal children. And Jarjayes and Toulan, aid- 
ed by another of the municipal commissioners, named Lepitre, 
who had also learned to abhor the indignities practiced on fallen 
royalty, had prepared full suits of male attire for the queen and 
princess, with red scarfs and sashes as were worn by the different 
commissioners, of whom there were too many for all of them to be 
known to the sentinels; and also clothes for the two children, ill-fit- 
ting and shabby, to resemble the dress of the lamp-lighter's boys. 
Passports, too, by the aid of Lepitre, whose duties lay in the de- 
partment which issued them, were provided for the whole fami- 
ly ; and after careful discussion of the arrangements to be adopt- 
ed when once the prisoners were clear of the Temple, it was set- 
tled that they should take the road to Normandy in three cabrio- 
lets, which would be less likely to attract notice than any larger 
and less ordinary carriage. 

The end of February or the beginning of March was fixed for 
the attempt ; but before that time the Government and the peo- 
ple had become greatly disquieted by the operations of the Grer- 
man armies, which were about to receive the powerful assistance 
of England. Prussia had gained decided advantages on the Rhine. 
An Austrian army, under the Archduke Charles, was making for- 
midable progress in the Netherlands. Rumors, also, which soon 
proved to be well founded, of an approaching insurrection in the 
Avestern departments of France, reached the capital. The vigilance 
with which the royal prisoners were watched was increased. In- 
formation, too, though of no precise character, that they had ob- 
tained means of communicating with their partisans who wei'e at 
liberty, was conveyed to the magistrates. And at last Jarjayes 
and Toulan were forced to abandon the idea of effecting the es- 
cape of the whole family, though they were still confident that 
they could accomplish that of the queen, which they regarded as 
the most important, since it was plain that it was she who was in 
the most immediate danger. Elizabeth, as disinterested as herself, 
besought her to embrace their offers, and to let her and the chil- 
dren, as being less obnoxious to the Jacobins, take their chance of 
some subsequent means of escape, or perhaps even of mercy. 



446 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

But such a flight was forbidden alike by Marie Antoinette's 
sense of duty and by lier sense of honor, if indeed the two were 
ever separated in her mind. Honor forbade her to desert her 
companions in misery, whose danger might even be increased by 
the rage of her jailers, exasperated at her escape. Duty to her boy 
forbade it still more emphatically. As his guardian, she ought not 
to leave him ; as his mother, she could not. And her renuncia- 
tion of the whole design was conveyed to M. Jarjayes in a letter 
which did honor alike to both by the noble gratitude which it ex- 
pressed, and which was long cherished by his heirs as one of their 
most precious possessions, till it was destroyed, with many anoth- 
er valuable record, when Paris a second time fell under the rule of 
wretches scarcely less detestable than the Jacobins whom they im- 
itated.* It was written by stealth, with a pencil ; but no difficul- 
ties or hurry, as no acuteness of disappointment or depth of dis- 
tress, could rob Marie Antoinette of her desire to confer pleasure 
on others, or of her inimitable gracefulness of expression. Thus 
she wrote : 

" We have had a pleasant dream, that is all. I have gained 
much by still finding, on this occasion, a new proof of your entire 
devotion to me. My confidence in you is boundless. And on all 
occasions you will always find strength of mind and courage in 
me. But the interest of my son is my sole guide; and, whatever 
happiness I might find in being out of this place, I can not con- 
sent to separate myself from him. In what remains, I thorough- 
ly recognize your attachment to me in all that you said to me 
yesterday. Rely upon it that I feel the kindness and the force 
of your arguments as far as my own interest is concerned, and 
that I feel that the opportunity can no*t recur. But I could en- 
joy nothing if I were to leave my children ; and this idea pre- 
vents me from even regretting my decision."! 

And to Toulan she said that " her sole desire was to be re- 
united to her husband whenever Heaven should decide that her 
life was no longer necessary to her children." He was greatly 
afflicted, but he could no longer be of use to her. Her last com- 
mission to him was to convey to her eldest brother-in-law, the 
Count de Provence, her husband's ring and seal, that they might 
be in safer custody than her own, and that she or her son might 

* It was burned in 18*71, in the time of the Commune. 

f Feuillet de Conches, vi., p. 499. The letter is neither dated nor signed. 



A FLAN TO RESCUE THE QUEEN. 447 

reclaim them, if either should ever be at liberty. She gave Tou- 
lan also, as a memorial of her gratitude, a small gold box, one 
of the few trinkets which she still possessed, and which, unhap- 
pily, proved a fatal present. In the summer of the next year it 
was found in his possession, its history was ascertained, and he 
was sent to the scaffold for the sole offense of having and valuing 
a relic of his murdered sovereign. 

Nor was this the only plan formed for the queen's rescue. 
The Baron de Batz was a noble of the purest blood in France, 
seneschal of the Duchy of Albret, and bound by ancient ties of 
hereditary friendship to the king, as the heir of Henry IV., whose 
most intimate confidence had been enjoyed by his ancestor. He 
was still animated by all the antique feelings of chivalrous loyal- 
ty, and from the first breaking-out of the troubles of the Revolu- 
tion he had brought to the service of his sovereign the most ab- 
solute devotion, which was rendered doubly useful by an inex- 
haustible fertility of resource, and a presence of mind that noth- 
ing could daunt or perplex. On the fatal 21st of January, he 
had even formed a project of rescuing Louis on his way to the 
scaffold, which failed, partly from the timidity of some on whose 
co-operation he had reckoned, and partly, it is said, from the re- 
luctance of Louis himself to countenance an enterprise which, 
whatever might be its result, must tend to fierce conflict and 
bloodshed. Since his sovereign's death he had bent all the ener- 
gies of his mind to contrive the escape of the queen, and he had 
so far succeeded that he had enlisted in her cause two men whose 
posts enabled them to give most effectual assistance : Michonis, 
who, like Toulan, Avas one of the commissioners of the Council ; 
and Cortey, a captain of the National Guard, whose company was 
one of those most frequently on duty at the Temple. It seemed 
as if all that was necessary to be done was to select a night for 
the escape when the chief outlets of the Temple should be guard- 
ed by Cortey's men ; and De Batz, who was at home in every 
thing that required manoeuvre or contrivance, had provided dresses 
to disguise the persons of the whole family while in the Temple, 
and passports and conveyances to secure their escape the moment 
they were outside the gates. Every thing seemed to promise 
success, when at the last moment secret intelligence that some 
plan or other was in agitation was conveyed to the Council. It 
was not sufficient to enable them to know whom they were to 
guard against or to arrest, but it was enough to lead them to send 



448 LIFE OF MAlilE ANTOINETTE. 

down to the Temple another commissioner whose turn of duty 
did not require his presence there, but whose ferocious surliness 
of temper pointed him out as one not easily to be either tricked 
or overborne. He was a cobbler, named Simon, the very same 
to whose cruel superintendence the little king was presently in- 
trusted. 

He came down the very evening that every thing was arranged 
for the escape of the hapless family. De Batz saw that all was 
over if he staid, and hesitated for a moment whether he should 
blow out his brains, and try to accomplish the queen's deliverance 
by force ; but a little reflection showed him that the noise of fire- 
arms would bring up a crowd of enemies beyond his ability to 
overpower, and it soon appeared that it would tax all his re- 
sources to secure his own escape. He achieved that, hoping still 
to find some other opportunity of being useful to his royal mis- 
tress ; but none offered. The Assembly did him the honor to 
set a price on his head ; and at last he thought himself fortunate 
in being able to save himself. Those who had co-operated with 
him had worse fortune. Those in authority had no proofs on 
which to condemn them ; but in those days suspicion was a suffi- 
cient death-warrant. Michonis and Cortey were suspected, and 
in the course of the next year a belief that they had at least sym- 
pathized with the queen's sorrows sent them both to the scaffold. 

With the failure of De Batz every project of escape was aban- 
doned ; and a few weeks later the queen congratulated herself 
that she had refused to flee without her boy, since in the course 
of May he was seized with illness which for some days threat- 
ened to assume a dangerous character. With a brutality which, 
even in such monsters as the Jacobin rulers of the city, seems al- 
most inconceivable, they refused to allow him the attendance of 
M. Brunier, the physician who had had the charge of his infancy. 
It would be a breach of the principles of equality, they said, if 
any prisoner were permitted to consult any but the prison doctor. 
But the prison doctor was a man of sense and humanity, as well 
as of professional skill. He of his own accord sought the advice 
of Brunier ; and the poor child recovered, to be reserved for a 
fate which, even in the next few weeks, was so foreshadowed, that 
his own mother must almost have begun to doubt whether his 
restoration to health had been a blessing to her or to himself. 

The spring was marked by important events. Had one so 
high-minded been capable of exulting in the misfortunes of even 



FALL OF THE OIBONDmS. 449 

her worst enemies, Marie Antoinette mig^ht have triumphed in the 
knowledge that the murderers of her husband were already begin- 
ning that work of mutual destruction which in little more than a 
year sent almost every one of them to the same scaffold on which 
he had perished. The jealousies which from the first had set the 
Jacobins and Girondins at variance had I'eached a height at which 
they could only be extinguished by the annihilation of one party 
or the other. They had been partners in crime, and so far were 
equal in infamy ; but the Jacobins were the fiercer and the read- 
ier ruffians ; and, after nearly two months of vehement debates in 
the Convention, in which Robespierre denounced the whole body 
of the Girondin leaders as plotters of treason against the State, 
and Vergniaud in reply reviled Robespierre as a coward, the Jac- 
obins worked up the mob to rise in their support. The Con- 
vention, which hitherto had been divided in something like equali- 
ty between the two factions, yielded to the terror of a new insur- 
rection, and on the 2d of June ordered the arrest of the Girondin 
leaders. A very few escaped the search made far them by the 
officers — Roland, to commit suicide ; Barbaroux, to- attempt it ; 
Petion and Buzot reached the forests to be devoured by congeni- 
al wolves. Lanjuinais,* whom the decree of the Convention had 
identified with them, but who, even in the moments of the great- 
est excitement, had kept himself clear of their wickedness and 
crimes, was the only one of the whole body who completely 
eluded the rage of his enemies. The rest, with Madame Roland, 
the first prompter of deeds of blood, languished in their well-de- 
served prisons till the close of autumn, when they all perished on 
the same scaffold to which they had sent their innocent sover- 
eign.t 

* Lanjuinais had subsequently the singular fortune of gaining the confi- 
dence of both Napoleon and Louis XVIII. The decree against him was re- 
versed in 1795, and he became a professor at Rennes. Though he had op- 
posed the making of Napoleon consul for life, Napoleon gave him a place in 
his Senate ; and at the first restoration, in 1814, Louis XVIII. named him a 
peer of France. He died in 182Y. 

f Some of the apologists of the Girondins — for nearly all the oldest crimi- 
nals of the Revolution have found defenders, except perhaps Marat and Robes- 
pierre — have affirmed that the Girondins, though they had not courage to give 
their votes to save the life of Louis, yet hoped to save him by voting for an 
appeal to the people ; but the order in which the different questions were put 
to the Convention is a complete disproof of this plea. The first question put 
was, Was Louis guilty ? They all voted " Qui " (Lacretelle, x., p. 403). But 

29 



450 LIFE OP MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

But it may be that Marie Antoinette never learned tlieir fall; 
though that if she had, pity would at least have mingled with, if 
it had not predominated over, her natural exultation, she gave a 
striking proof in her conduct toward one from whom she had 
suffered great and constant indignities. From the time that her 
own attendants were dismissed, the only persons appointed to as- 
sist Clery in his duties were a man and woman named Tison, 
chosen for that task on account of their surly and brutal tempers, 
in which the wife exceeded her husband. Both, and especially 
the woman, had taken a fiendish pleasure in heaping gratuitous 
insults on the whole family ; but at last the dignity and resigna- 
tion of the queen awakened remorse in the woman's heart, which 
presently worked upon her to such a degree that she became mad. 
In the first days of her frenzy she raved up and down the court- 
yard declaring herself guilty of the queen's murder. She threw 
herself at Marie Antoinette's feet, imploring her pardon ; and 
Marie Antoinette not only raised her up with her own hand, and 
spoke gentle words of forgiveness and consolation to her, but, 
after she had been removed to a hospital, showed a kind interest 
in her condition, and amidst all her own troubles found time to 
write a note to express her anxiety that the invalid should have 
proper attention.* 

But very soon a fresh blow was struck at the hapless queen 
which made her indifferent to all else that could happen, and even 
to her own fate, of which it may be regarded as the precursor. 
At ten o'clock on the 3d of July, when the little king was sleep- 
ing calmly, his mother having hung a shawl in front of his bed 
to screen his eyes from the light of the candle by which she and 
Elizabeth were mending their clothes, the door of their chamber 
was violently thrown open, and six commissioners entered to an- 

though on the second question, whether this verdict should be submitted to 
the people for ratification, many of them did vote for such an appeal being 
made, yet after the appeal had been rejected by a majority of one hundred 
and forty-two, and the third question, " What penalty shall be inflicted on 
Louis?" (Lacretelle, X., p. 441) was put to the Convention, they all except 
Lanjuinais voted for " death." The majorities were, on the first question, 683 
to 66 ; on the second, 423 to 281 ; on the third, 387 to 334 ; so that on this 
last, the fatal question, it would have been easy for the Girondins to have 
turned the scale. And Lamartine himself expressly affirms (xxxv., p. 5) that 
the king's life depended on the Girondin vote, and that his death was chiefly 
owing to Vergniaud. 

* Goncourt, p. 3*70, quoting " Fragments de Turgy." 



HER SON IS SEPARATJED FROM HER. 451 

nounce to the queen that the Convention had ordered the re- 
moval of her boy, that he might be committed to the care of a 
tutor — the tutor named being the cobbler, Simon, whose savage- 
ness of disposition was sufficiently attested by the fact of his 
having been chosen on the recommendation of Marat, At this 
unexpected blow, Marie Antoinette's fortitude and resignation at 
last gave way. She wept, she remonstrated, she humbled her- 
self to entreat mercy. She threw her arms around her child, and 
declared that force itself should not tear him from her. The 
commissioners were not men likely to feel or show pity. They 
abused her; they threatened her. She begged them rather to 
kill her than take her son. They would not kill her, but they 
swore that they would murder both him and her daughter before 
her eyes if he were not at once surrendered. There was no more 
resistance. His aunt and sister took him from the bed and 
dressed him. His mother, with a voice choked by her sobs, ad- 
dressed him the last words he was ever to hear from her. " My 
child, they are taking you from me ; never forget the mother who 
loves you tenderly, and never forget God ! Be good, gentle, and 
honest, and your father will look dovyn on you from heaven and 
bless you !" " Have you done with this preaching ?" said the chief 
commissioner. " You have abused our patience finely," another 
added ; " the nation is generous, and will take care of his educa- 
tion." But she had fainted, and heard not these words of mock- 
ing cruelty. Nothing could touch her further. 

If it be not also a mockery to speak of happiness in connec- 
tion with this most afflicted queen, she was happy in at least not 
knowing the details of the education which was in store for the 
noble boy whose birth had apparently secured for him the most 
splendid of positions, and whose opening virtues seemed to give 
every promise that he would be worthy of his rank and of his 
mother. A few days afterward Simon received his instructions 
from a committee of the Convention, of which Drouet, the post- 
master of Ste. Menehould, was the chief. " How was he to treat 
the wolf cub ?" he asked (it was one of the mildest names he ever 
gave him). " Was he to kill him ?" " No." " To poison him ?" 
" No." " What then «" "He was to get rid of him,"* and Si- 
mon carried out this instruction by the most unremitting ill-treat- 

* " S'en defaire." — Louis XVIL, sa Vie, son Agonie, sa Mort, par M. de Beau- 
chesne, quoting Senart. See Croker's " Essays on the Revolution," p. 266. 



452 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

ment of his pupil. He imposed upon him the most menial of- 
fices ; he made him clean his shoes ; he reviled him ; he beat him ; 
he compelled him to wear the red cap and jacket which had been 
adopted as the Revolutionary dress ; and one day, when his moth- 
er obtained a glimpse of him as he was walking on the leads of 
the tower to which he had been transferred, it caused her an ad- 
ditional pang to see that he had been stripped of the suit of 
mourning for his father, and had been clothed in the garments 
which, in her eyes, were the symbol of all that was most impious 
and most loathsome. 

All these outrages were but the prelude of the final blow which 
was to fall on herself ; and it shows how great was the fear with 
which her lofty resolution had always inspired the Jacobins — fear 
with such natures being always the greatest exasperation of ha- 
tred and the keenest incentive to cruelty — that, when they had 
resolved to consummate her injuries by her murder, they did not 
leave her in the Temple as they had left her husband, but re- 
moved her to the Conciergerie, which in those days, fitly denom- 
inated the Reign of Terror, rarely led but to the scaffold. On the 
night of the 1st of August (the darkest hours were appropriately 
chosen for deeds of such darkness) another body of commission- 
ers entered her room, and woke her up to announce that they had 
come to conduct her to the common prison. Her sister and her 
daughter begged in vain to be allowed to accompany her. She 
herself scarcely spoke a word, but dressed herself in silence, made 
up a small bundle of clothes, and, after a few words of farewell 
and comfort to those dear ones who had hitherto been her com- 
panions, followed her jailers unresistingly, knowing, and for her 
own sake cei'tainly not grieving, that she was going to meet her 
doom. As she passed through the outer door it was so low that 
she struck her head. One of the commissioners had so much de- 
cency left as to ask if she was hurt. " No," she replied, " noth- 
ing now can hurt me."* Six weeks later, an English gentleman 
saw her in her dungeon. She was freely exhibited to any one 
who desired to behold her, on the sole condition — a condition 
worthy of the monsters who exacted it, and of them alone — that 
he should show no sign of sympathy or sorrow.f "She was sit- 



* Duchesse d'Angouleme, p. 78. 

\ See a letter from Miss Chowne to Lord Auckland, September 23d, 1*793, 
Journal, etc., of Lord Auckland, ii., p. ^l^. 



APPEAL OF MADAME BE STAEL. 453 

ting on an old worn-out chair made of straw whicli scarcely sup- 
ported her weight. Dressed in a gown which had once been 
white, her attitude bespoke the immensity of her grief, which ap- 
peared to have created a kind of stupor, that fortunately render- 
ed her less sensible to the injuries and reproaches which a num- 
ber of inhuman wretches were coutinually vomiting forth against 
her." 

Even after all the atrocities and horrors of the last twelve 
months, the news of the resolution to bring her to a trial, which, 
it was impossible to doubt, it was intended to follow up by her 
execution, was received as a shock by the great bulk of the na- 
tion, as indeed by all Europe. And Necker's daughter, Madame 
de Stael, who, as we have seen, had been formerly desirous to aid 
in her escape, now addressed an energetic and eloquent appeal to 
the entire people, calling on all persons of all parties, "Repub- 
licans, Constitutionalists, and Aristocrats alike, to unite for her 
preservation." She left unemployed no fervor of entreaty, no 
depth of argument. She reminded them of the universal admi- 
ration which the queen's beauty and grace had formerly excited, 
when "all France thought itself laid under an obligation by her 
charms ;"* of the affection that she had won by her ceaseless acts 
of beneficence and generosity. She showed the absurdity of de- 
nouncing her as " the Austrian " — her who had left Vienna while 
still little more than a child, and had ever since fixed her heart as 
well as her home in France. She argued truly that the vague- 
ness, the ridiculousness, the notorious falsehood of the accusa- 
tions brought against her were in themselves her all-sufficient de- 
fense. She showed how useless to every party and in every point 
of view must be her condemnation. What danger could any one 
apprehend from restoring to liberty a princess whose every thought 
was tenderness and piety ? She reproached those who now held 
sway in France with the barbarity of their proscriptions, with gov- 
erning by terror and by death, with having overthrown a throne 
only to erect a scaffold in its place ; and she declared that the 
execution of the queen would exceed in foulness all the other 
crimes that they had yet committed. She was a foreigner, she 
was a woman ; to put her to death would be a violation of all the 
laws of hospitality as well as of all the laws of nature. The whole 

* " Le peuple la re9ut non seulement comme une reine adoree, mais il sem- 
blait aussi qu'il lui savait gre d'etre charmante," p. 5, ed. 1820. 



454 LIFE OF MABIE ANTOINETTE. 

universe was interesting itself in the queen's fate. Woe to tlie 
nation which knew neither justice nor generosity ! Freedom 
would never be the destiny of such a people.* 

It had not been from any feeling of compunction or hesitation 
that those who had her fate in their hands left her so long in her 
dungeon, but from the absolute impossibility of inventing an ac- 
cusation against her that should not be utterly absurd and palpa- 
bly groundless. So difficult did they find their task, that the jail- 
er, a man named Richard, who, when alone, ventured to show sym- 
pathy for her miseries, sought to encourage her by the assurance 
that she would be replaced in the Temple. But Marie Antoinette 
indulged in no such illusion. She never doubted that her death 
was resolved on. "No," she replied to his well-meant words of 
hope, " they have murdered the king ; they will kill me in the same 
way. Never again shall I see my unfortunate children, my tender 
and virtuous sister." And the tears which her own sufferings could 
not wring from her flowed freely when she thought of what they 
were still enduring. 

But at last the eagerness for her destruction overcame all diffi- 
culties or scruples. The principal articles of the indictment charged 
her with helping to overthrow the republic and to effect the re- 
establishment of the throne ; with having exerted her influence 
over her husband to mislead his judgment, to render him unjust 
to his people, and to induce him to put his veto on laws of which 
they desired the enactment ; with having caused scarcity and fam- 
ine ; with having favored aristocrats ; and with having kept up a 



* Great interest was felt for her in England. In October Horace Walpole 
writes : " While assemblies of friends calling themselves men are from day to 
day meditating torment and torture for his [Louis XVI.'s] heroic widow, on 
whom, with all their power and malice, and with every page, footman, and 
chamber-maid of hers in their reach, and with the rack in their hands, they 
have not been able to fix a speck. Nay, do they not talk of the inutility of 
evidence? What other virtue ever sustained such an ordeal?" Walpole's 
testimony in such a matter is particularly valuable, because he had not only 
been intimately acquainted with all the gossip of the French capital for many 
years, but also because his principal friends in France did not belong to the 
party which might have been expected to be most favorable to the queen. 
Had there been the very slightest foundation for the calumnies which had 
been pj^pagated against her, we may be sure that such a person as Madame 
du Deffand would not only have heard them, but would have been but too 
willing to believe them. His denunciation of them is a proof that she knew 
their falsehood. 



HER TRIAL. 455 

constant correspondence with her brother, the emperor; and the 
preamble and the peroration compared her to Messalina, Agrip- 
pina, Brunehaut, and Catherine de' Medici — to all the wickedest 
women of whom ancient or modern history had preserved a rec- 
ord. Had she been guided by her own feelings alone, she would 
have probably disdained to defend herself against charges whose 
very absurdity proved that they were only put forward as a pre- 
tense for a judgment that had been previously decided on. But 
still, as ever, she thought of her child, her fair and good son, her 
"gentle infant," her king. While life lasted she could never 
wholly relinquish the hope that she might see him once again, 
perhaps even that some unlooked-for chance (none could be so 
unexpected as almost every occurrence of the last four years) 
might restore him and her to freedom, and him to his throne ; 
and for his sake she resolved to exert herself to refute the charges, 
and at least to establish her right to acquittal and deliverance. 

Louis had been tried before the Convention. Marie Antoinette 
was to be condemned by the, if possible, still more infamous court 
that had been established in the spring under the name of the 
Revolutionary Tribunal; and on the 13th of October she was at 
last conducted before a small sub-committee, and subjected to a 
private examination. To every question she gave firm and clear 
answers.* She declared that the French people had indeed been 
deceived, but not by her or by her husband. She affirmed " that 
the happiness of France always had been, and still was, the first 
wish of her heart ;" and that " she should not even regret the loss 
of her son's throne, if it led to the real happiness of the country." 
She was taken back to her cell. The next day the four judges of 
the tribunal took their seats in the court. Fouquier-Tinville, the 
public prosecutor, a man whose greed of blood stamped him with 
an especial hideousness, even in those days of universal barbarity, 
took his seat before them ; and eleven men, the greater part of 
whom had been carefully picked from the very dregs of the peo- 
ple — journeymen carpenters, tailors, blacksmiths, and discharged 
policemen — were constituted the jury. 

Before this tribunal — we will not dignify it with the name of a 
court of justice — Marie Antoinette, the widow Capet, as she was 
called in the indictment, was now brought. Clad in deep mourn- 
ing for her murdered husband, and aged beyond her years by her 

* Goncourt, p. 388, quoting La Quotidienne of October lYth, 18th. 



456 LIFE OP MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

lono- series of sorrows, she still preserved the fearless dignity which 
became her race and rank and character. As she took her place 
at the bar and cast her eyes around the hall, even the women who 
thronged the court, debased as they were, were struck by her lofty 
demeanor. " How proud she is !" was the exclamation, the only 
sign of nervousness that she gave being that, as those who watch- 
ed her closely remarked, she moved her fingers up and down on 
the arm of her chair, as if she had been playing on the harpsi- 
chord. The prosecutor brought up witness after witness ; some 
whom it was believed that some ancient hatred, others whom it 
was expected that some hope of pardon for themselves, might in- 
duce to give evidence such as was required. The Count d'Es- 
taing had always been connected with her enemies. Bailly, once 
Mayor of Paris, as has been seen, had sought a base popularity by 
the wantonness of the unprovoked insults which he had offered to 
the king. Michonis knew that his head was imperiled by suspi- 
cions of his recent desire to assist her. But one and all testified 
to her entire innocence of the different charges which they had 
been brought forward to support, and to the falsehood of the 
statements contained in the indictment. Her own replies, when 
any question was addressed to herself, were equally in her favor. 
When accused of having been the prompter of the political meas- 
ures of the king's government, her answer could not be denied to 
be in accordance with the law : " That she was the wife and sub- 
ject of the king, and could not be made responsible for his resolu- 
tions and actions." When charged with general indifference or 
hostility to the happiness of the people, she affirmed with equal 
calmness, as she had previously declared at her private examina- 
tion, that the welfare of the nation had been, and always was, the 
first of her wishes. 

Once only did a question provoke an answer in any other tone 
than that of a lofty imperturbable equanimity. She had not 
known till that moment the depth of her enemies' wickedness, or 
the cruelty with which her son's mind had been dealt with, worse 
ten thousand times than the foulest tortures that could be applied 
to the body. Both her children had been subjected to an exami- 
nation, in the hope that something might be found to incriminate 
her in the words of those who might hardly be able to estimate 
the exact value of their expressions. The princess had been old 
enough to baffle the utmost malice of her questioners ; and the 
boy had given short and plain replies from which nothing to suit 



BER CONDEMNATION AND SENTENCE. 457 

their purpose could be extracted, till they forced him to drink 
braudy, and, when he was stupefied with drink, compelled him to 
sign depositions in which he accused both the queen and Eliza- 
beth of having trained him in lessons of vice. At first, horror at 
so monstrous a charge had sealed the queen's lips ; but when she 
gave no denial, a juryman questioned her on the subject, and in- 
sisted on an answer. Then at last Marie Antoinette spoke in sub- 
lime indignation. " If I have not answered, it w^as because nature 
itself rejects such an accusation made against a mother. I appeal 
from it to every mother who hears me." 

Marie Antoinette had been allowed two counsel, who, perilous 
as was the duty imposed upon them, cheerfully accepted it as 
an honor ; but it was not intended that their assistance should 
be more than nominal. She had only known their names on the 
evening preceding the trial ; but when she addressed a letter to 
the President of the Convention, demanding a postponement of 
the trial for three days, as indispensable to enable them to master 
the case, since as yet they had not had time even to read the 
whole of the indictment, adding that " her duty to her children 
bound her to leave nothing undone which was requisite for the 
entire justification of their mother," the request was rudely re- 
fused ; and all that the lawyers could do Avas to address eloquent 
appeals to the judges and jurymen, being utterly unable, on so 
short notice, to analyze as they deserved the arguments of the 
prosecutor or the testimony by which he had professed to sup- 
port them. But before such a tribunal it signified little what 
was proved or disproved, or what was the strength or weakness of 
the arguments employed on either side. It was long after mid- 
night of the second day that the trial concluded. The jury at 
once pronounced the prisoner guilty. The judges as instantly 
passed sentence of death, and ordered it to be executed the next 
morning. 

It was nearly five in the morning of the 16th of October when 
the favorite daughter of the great Empress-queen, herself Queen 
of France, was led from the court, not even to the wretched room 
which she had occupied for the last ten weeks, but to the con- 
demned cell, never tenanted before by any but the vilest felons. 
Though greatly exhausted by the length of the proceedings, she 
had heard the sentence without betraying the slightest emotion 
by any change of countenance or gesture. On reaching her cell 
she at once asked for writing materials. They had been with- 



458 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

held from her for more than a year, but they were now brought 
to her ; and with them she wrote her last letter to that princess 
whom she had long learned to love as a sister of her own, who 
had shared her sorrows hitherto, and who, at no distant period, 
was to share the fate which was now awaiting herself. 

" 16th October, 4.30 a.m. 
" It is to you, my sister, that I write for the last time. I have 
just been condemned, not to a shameful death, for such is only 
for criminals, but to go and rejoin your brother. Innocent like 
him, I hope to show the same firmness in my last moments. I 
am calm, as one is when one's conscience reproaches one with 
nothing. I feel profound sorrow in leaving my poor children : 
you know that I only lived for them and for you, my good and 
tender sister. You who out of love have sacrificed every thing to 
be with us, in what a position do I leave you ! I have learned 
from the proceedings at my trial that my daughter was separated 
from you. Alas ! poor child ; I do not venture to write to her ; 
she would not receive my letter. I do not even know whether 
this will reach you. Do you receive my blessing for both of 
them. I hope that one day when they are older they may be 
able to rejoin you, and to enjoy to the full your tender care. 
Let them both think of the lesson which I have never ceased to 
impress upon them, that the principles and the exact performance 
of their duties are the chief foundation of life ; and then mutual 
affection and confidence in one another will constitute its hap- 
piness. Let my daughter feel that at her age she ought always 
to aid her brother by the advice which her greater experience and 
her affection may inspire her to give him. And let my son in 
his turn render to his sister all the care and all the services which 
affection can inspire. Let them, in short, both feel that, in what- 
ever positions they may be placed, they will never be truly happy 
but through their union. Let them follow our example. In our 
own misfortunes how much comfort has our affection for one an- 
other afforded us ! And, in times of happiness, we have enjoyed 
that doubly from being able to share it with a friend ; and where 
can one find friends more tender and more united than in one's 
own family ? Let my son never forget the last words of his fa- 
ther, which I repeat emphatically ; let him never seek to avenge 
our deaths. I have to speak to you of one thing which is very 
painful to my heart, I know how much pain the child must have 



NOBLE SENTIMENTS OF THE CONDEMNED QUEEN. 459 

caused you. Forgive him, my dear sister ; think of his age, and 
how easy it is to make a child say whatever one wishes, especially 
when he does not understand it.* It will come to pass one day, 
I hope, that he will better feel the value of your kindness and of 
your tender affection for both of them. It remains to confide 
to you my last thoughts. I should have wished to write them 
at the beginning of my trial ; but, besides that they did not leave 
me any means of writing, events have passed so rapidly that I 
really have not had time. 

" I die in the Catholic Apostolic and Roman religion, that of 
my fathers, that in which I was brought up, and which I have al- 
ways professed. Having no spiritual consolation to look for, not 
even knowing whether there are still in this place any priests of 
that religionf (and indeed the place where I am would expose 
them to too much danger if they were to enter it but once), I 
sincerely implore pardon of God for all the faults which I may 
have committed during my life. I trust that, in his goodness, he 
will mercifully accept my last prayers, as well as those which I 
have for a long time addressed to him, to receive my soul into 
his mercy. I beg pardon of all whom I know, and especially of 
you, my sister, for all the vexations which, without intending it, 
I may have caused you. I pardon all my enemies the evils that 
they have done me. I bid farewell to my aunts and to all my 
brothers and sisters. I had friends. The idea of being forever 
separated from them and from all their troubles is one of the 
greatest sorrows that I suffer in dying. Let them at least know 
that to my latest moment I thought of them. 

" Farewell, my good and tender sister. May this letter reach 
you. Think always of me ; I embrace you with all my heart, as 
I do my poor dear children. My God, how heart-rending it is to 
leave them forever ! Farewell ! farewell ! I must now occupy 
myself with my spiritual duties, as I am not free in my actions. 
Perhaps they will bring me a priest; but I here protest that I 
will not say a word to him, but that I will treat him as a person 
absolutely unknown." 

Her forebodings were realized ; her letter never reached Eliza- 

* The depositions which the little king had been compelled to sign contain- 
ed accusations of his aunt as well as of his mother. 

f As we shall see in the close of the letter, she did not regard those priests 
who had taken the oath imposed by the Assembly, but which the Pope had 
condemned, as any longer priests. 



460 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

beth, but was carried to Fouquier, wbo placed it among his spe- 
cial records. Yet, if in those who had thus wrought the writer's 
destruction there had been one human feeling, it might have been 
awakened by the simple dignity and unaffected pathos of this 
sad farewell. No line that she ever wrote was more thoroughly 
characteristic of her. The innocence, purity, and benevolence of 
her soul shine through every sentence. Even in that awful mo- 
ment she never lost her calm, resigned fortitude, nor her consid- 
eration for others. She speaks of and feels for her children, for 
her friends, but never for herself. And it is equally characteris- 
tic of her that, even in her own hopeless situation, she still can 
cherish hope for others, and can look forward to the prospect of 
those whom she loves being hereafter united in freedom and hap- 
piness. She thought, it may be, that her own death would be 
the last sacrifice that her enemies would require. And for even 
her enemies and murderers she had a word of pardon, and could 
address a message of mercy for them to her son, who, she trusted, 
might yet some day have power to show that mercy she enjoined, 
or to execute the vengeance which with her last breath she depre- 
cated. 

She threw herself on her bed and fell asleep. At seven she was 
roused by the executioner. The streets were already thronged 
with a fierce and sanguinary mob, whose shouts of triumph were 
so vociferous that she asked one of her jailers whether they would 
tear her to pieces. She was assured that, as he expressed it, they 
would do her no harm. And indeed the Jacobins themselves 
would have protected her from the populace, so anxious were they 
to heap on her every indignity that would render death more ter- 
rible. Louis had been allowed to quit the Temple in his carriage. 
Marie Antoinette was to be drawn from the prison to the scaffold 
in a common cart, seated on a bare plank ; the executioner by her 
side, holding the cords with which her hands were already bound. 
With a refinement of barbarity, those who conducted the proces- 
sion made it halt more than once, that the people might gaze 
upon her, pointing her out to the mob with words and gestures 
of the vilest insult. She heard them not ; her thoughts were with 
God: her lips were uttering nothing but prayers. Once for a 
moment, as she passed in sight of the Tuileries, she was observed 
to cast an agonized look toward its towers, remembering, perhaps, 
how reluctantly she had quit it fourteen months before. It was 
midday before the cart reached the scaffold. As she descended, 



HER TRAITS OF CHARACTER SUMMARIZED. 461 

she trod on the executioner's foot. It might seem to have been 
ordained that her very last words might be words of courtesy. 
" Excuse me, sir," she said, " I did not do it on purpose ;" and she 
added, "make haste." In a few moments all was over. 

Her body was thrown into a pit in the common cemetery, and 
covered with quicklime to insure its entire destruction. When, 
more than twenty years afterward, her brother-in-law was restored 
to the throne, and with pious affection desired to remove her re- 
mains and those of her husband to the time-honored resting-place 
of their royal ancestors at St. Denis, no remains of her who had 
once been the admiration of all beholders could be found beyond 
some fragments of clothing, and one or two bones, among which 
the faithful memory of Chateaubriand believed that he recognized 
the mouth whose sweet smile had been impressed on his memo- 
ry since the day on which it acknowledged his loyalty on his first 
presentation, while still a boy, at Versailles, 

Thus miserably perished, by a death fit only for the vilest of 
criminals, Marie Antoinette, the daughter of one sovereign, the 
wife of another, who had never wronged or injured one human 
being. No one was ever more richly endowed with all the 
charms which render woman attractive, or with all the virtues 
that make her admirable. Even in her earliest years, her careless 
and occasionally undignified levity was but the joyous outpouring 
of a pure innocence of heart that, as it meant no evil, suspected 
none; while it was ever blended with a kindness and courtesy 
which sprung from a genuine benevolence. As queen, though still 
hardly beyond girlhood when she ascended the throne, she set her- 
self resolutely to work by her admonitions, and still more effectu- 
ally by her example, to purify a court of which for centuries the 
most shameless profligacy had been the rule and boast ; discoun- 
tenancing vice and impiety by her marked reprobation, and re- 
serving all her favor and protection for genius and patriotism, 
and honor and virtue. Surrounded at a later period by unex- 
ampled dangers and calamities, she showed herself equal to every 
vicissitude of fortune, and superior to its worst frowns. If her 
judgment occasionally erred, it was in cases where alternatives of 
evil were alone offered to her choice, and in which it is even now 
scarcely possible to decide what course would have been wiser or 
safer than that which she adopted. And when at last the long 
conflict was terminated by the complete victory of her combined 
enemies — when she, with her husband and her children, was bereft 



462 LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

not only of power, but even of freedom, and was a prisoner in the 
hands of those whose unalterable object was her destruction — she 
bore her accumulated miseries with a serene resignation, an in- 
trepid fortitude, a true heroism of soul, of which the history of the 
world does not afford a brighter example. 



INDEX. 



Abbi£ de Mandottx, 85; De Sabran, 89; 
De Sieyes, 386 ; De Vermoud, 22, 47, 48. 

Abolition of titles of honor, 305. 

Addresses presented from Paris and from 
the States of Languedoc, 48. 

Adelaide, Princess, intrigues of, 66-68; 
afllicted with the small -pox, 89; flight 
of, 330. 

Admiral de Coligny, 301; d'Orvilliers, 
153; du Chaffault, 154; Keppel, 153; 
Eodney, 165, 192. 

Ailesbury, Lady, 110, 111. 

Alliance formed with the United States, 
145,146; with Russia and Prussia, 153; 
with Spain, 162. 

American war, the, 145. 

Anglomania in Paris, 167. 

Anglomanie, a name given to English 
fashions, 119. 

Anti- Austrian feeling in Paris, 112, 113. 

Antoinette, Marie. See Marie Antoinette. 

Arbitrary powers of the sovereign of 
France, 243. 

Archbishop Lomenie de Brienne, 194. 

Archdnlie Maximilian visits his sister, 111. 

Arnay-le-Dnc, where the king's aunts 
were detained, 330. 

Arnould, Mademoiselle, 206. 

Arrest of Cardinal Rohan, 216. 

Assassination of Gustavus IIL of Sweden, 
382. 

Assembly, parties in the, " the Right," 
" the Left," and " the Plain," 271 ; abol- 
ishes all privileges August 4th, 1789, 
273; disorders in the, 311, 312; tyran- 
ny of the, 836-338 ; meeting of the new, 
693. 

Austria, antagonistic feeling against, 112 ; 
Emperor Joseph of, visits France incog- 
nito, 134-137 ; writes to his sister, the 
Queen of France, on European politics, 
196, 197 ; Austria, Maria Teresa, Em- 
press of, 20-172 ; death of Joseph II., 



Emperor of, 293, 294; influence of, in 
France, causes jealousy, 313, 314 ; re- 
monstrating by the Emperor Leopold 
with the French Government, 355; 
death of Leopold, 382-384; war declared 
against, 387. 

Autuu, Bishop of, 308. 

Axel de Fersen, Count, 172. 

Bagatellk, a house belonging to the 
Comte d'Artois, which was built in six- 
ty days, 144. 

Bailli de Suffrein, 192. 

Bailly, M., and the National Guard, 265, 
266 ; effrontery of, 285, 353. 

"Baker," a name given to the king, 274. 

Balbi, Countess de, 176, 379. 

Balloons introduced into France by Mont- 
golfier, 208. 

Banquet at the Hotel de Ville on account 
of the birth of the dauphin, 182. 

Barbarous, M., 395, 415. 

" Barber of Seville," play of the, 203. 

Barnave, M., and the Constitutionalists, 
271, 272, 349, 355 ; gives advice to the 
qneen, 390. 

Baron de Batz, 447 ; de Besenval, 159, 247, 
261 ; de Breteuil, 199, 259, 321. 

Baroness de Stael, 253, 453. 

Barri, Countess du, jealous of Marie An- 
toinette, 40, 41, 43, 44, 57 ; sent to a con- 
vent, 88. 

Bastile, attack on the, 1789, and murder 
of the governor, 260, 261 ; anniversary 
of the capture of, 307. 

Battle of Brandy wine, 146. 

Batz, Baron de, 447. 

Bavaria, affairs in, at the death of the 
elector in 1777, 147. 

Beauharnais, General, 3<!7. 

Beaulieu, Marshal, 388. 

Beaumarchais, M., 202-207. 

Beauty of Marie Antoinette, 116, 117. 



464 



INDEX. 



Benuvaii, M. de, and the Opposition, 228. 

Bertrand, M., 372, 373, 37S, 411. 

Besenval, Baron de, 159 ; and the Reveil- 
lon riot, 247, 2C1. 

Birth of Due d'Angoulerae, 120; of the 
Princess Marie-Ther6se Charlotte (Ma- 
dame Royal), 155; of the dauphin, son 
of Marie Antoinette, 177. 

Bishop Lamourette, 410 ; Talleyrand, 308. 

Body-guard, ball given by the, 178 ; and 
the Versailles mob, 281, 286 ; protecting 
the court, 342, 350. 

Boehmer, the court jeweler, 214-221. 

Bouille, Marquis de, 163, 193, 310; flies 
from France, 355. 

Boutourlin's, M., attacks on M. Necker, 
174. 

Brandywine, Battle of, 146. 

Breteuil, Baron de, 199 ; appointed prime 
minister, 259 ; and foreign intervention, 
321. 

Breton Club, 303. 

Brienne, Lomenie de. Archbishop of Tou- 
louse, 194. 

Brissac, Due de, 79, 392. 

Brissot, M., 370. 

Broglie, Marshal de, 142, 257, 258. 

Brunier, M.,448. 

Brunoy, entertainment given at, 132. 

Brunswick, Duke of, 412. 

Brunswick, Prince Ferdinand of, 142. 

Burke's description of the beauty of the 
queen, 116. 

Buzot, M., 355 

Calonne, M. de, 194, 195; dismissed from 
the office of finance minister, 227-229. 

Campan, Madame de, 188, 203, 264. 

Cap, red, of liberty, 388. 

Cape St. Vincent, 165. 

Capet, name given to the queen before the 
trial, 455 et seq. 

Cardinal de Eohan, 189, 190, 215-222. 

Carlisle, Lord, receiving a challenge from 
La Fayette in 1778, 147. 

Carnival of 1777, 131, 132. 

Castle of Gaillon, 411. 

Chaftault, Admiral du, 154. 

Challenge sent by Marquis de La Fayette 
to Lord Carlisle, 146, 147. 

Chalons, and the reception of the king on 
his arrest, 348. 

Champs de Mars, fete in the, in celebra- 
tion of the anniversary of the capture 
of the Bastile, 307. 

Chantilly, festivities at, 

Charity shown by Louis XVI. and the 



queen during the winter of 178S-9, 238- 
240. 

Charleston, capture of, 169. 

Chartres, Due de and Due d'Orleans re- 
called from banishment, 72; and the 
Comte d'Artois establish horse-racing, 
119 ; displays cowardice as rear-admi- 
ral, 153 ; refused marriage with Madame 
Royale, 249, 250 ; and the red cap of lib- 
erty, 388. 

Chevalier d'Assas, story of the, 142, 143. 

Chlnon, M. de, 277, 278. 

Choiseul, Due de, 46 ; dismissal of, 52 ; re- 
call from banishment, 95, 96. 

Choisy, private parties at, 103. 

Clergy, oppression of the, 329. 

CWry, M., refused audience with the 
queen, 442 et seq. 

Clinton, Sir Harry, 169. 

Clootz, Anacharsis, heads a deputation, 
304. 

Clostercamp, the scene of the heroism dis- 
played by the Chevalier d'Assas, 143. 

Clotilde, Princess, marriage of the, 117. 

Clubs, political, springing up at Paris, 245. 

Coigny, Due de, 159. 

Coligny, Admiral de, and Count de Mira- 
beau, 301. 

Compidgne, 30, 31. 

Comte d'Artois, 83, 119, 144, 154, 160, 176, 
178, 264, 333, 334, 379 ; de la Marck, 173, 
290, 301, 302, 306, 324, 325 ; de Mercy, 235, 
236, 301, 312, 338-340. 

Condorcet, Marquis de, 386. 

Constitution, completing the, by the As- 
sembly, 356 ; acceptance of the, by the 
king, 365, 366. 

Constitutional guard, dissolution of the, 
392, 393. 

Constitutionalists, or "the Plain," 271, 
356. 

Conti, Prince de, 264. 

Cordeliers, the, 354. 

Cortey,M., 447. 

Count d'Estaing, 163 ; de Fersen, 172, 173. 
341 ; d'Herviliy, 398 ; de Grasse, 192 ; de 
Luxembourg, 275; de Maurepas, 107, 
143, 200 ; de Mirabeau, 104, 217, 2,')3-335 ; 
de Narbonne, 373 ; de Roche -Aymer, 
85; de Rosenberg, 120; de Stedingk, 
172, 178 ; de St. Priest, 278 ; de Van- 
dreuil, 122, 123, 205 ; Bsterhazy, 159. 

Countess de Balbi, 176, 379 ; du Barri, 40, 
41, 43, 44, 57, 88; de Grammont, 47, 51 ; 
de Monnier, 253, 254 ; de la Mothe, 215- 
221; deNoail]es,45; dePolignac,121,141, 
181, 184, 227, 228, 264 ; de Provence, 160. 



INDEX. 



465 



"Conpe-tStes," the, 27T. 
Court supper-parties, 103. 
Couthou, M., 371. 
Craufurd, Mr., 341, 342. 

D'Agoust, Marquis, 232, 233. 
D'Aiguillon, Due, 46, 52, 84. 
Dames de la Halle, SO, 157, 158, 180. 
D'Augouleine, Due, birth of, 120, 170, 179. 
D'Artois, Comte, marriage of the, S3 ; and 
the Due de Chartres establish horse-ra- 
cing, 119 ; his character, 144 ; shielding 
the Due de Chartres, 154; watching at 
the queen's bedside during her illness, 
ICO ; shows contempt for the commer- 
cial orders, 17G, 178 ; flees from Paris, 
264; misconduct of the, 333, 334; re- 
fuses to return to France, 379. 
D'Assas, Chevalier, story of the, 142, 143. 
Dauphin, proposal of marriage of Marie 
Antoinette to the, 24 ; early education 
of the, 25 ; introduction to, 30, 31 ; mar- 
ried at Versailles, May 16th, 1770, 32 ; let- 
ter from Maria Teresa to the, 34; admi- 
ration of the, for his wife, 55 ; and the 
Count de Provence, characters of the, 67 ; 
birth of the, son of Louis XVI., 177, 178 ; 
death of the, son of Louis XVI., June 
4th, 1789, and succeeded by his brother, 
256 ; and M. Bertrand, 378. 

Deane, Silas, 146. 

Death of Francis, Emperor of Germany, 
21 ; of Louis XV., 86 ; of Voltaire, 153 ; 
of Cardinal de Rohan, at Eltenheim, 
222; of Princess Sophie, daughter of the 
queen, 226 ; of the Dauphin, son of Lou- 
is XVL, June 4th, 1789, 256; of Joseph 
II., Emperor of Austria, 293, 294; of 
Count de Mirabeau, 334 ; of Leopold, 
Emperor of Austria, 382-384. 

Debt, the queen finds herself in, 129. 

Declaration of Pilnitz, 364. 

Defeat of De Grasse by Admiral Rodne}', 
192. 

Degraves, M., 384. 

De Launay, M., governor of the Bustile, 
death of, 262. 

Des Huttes, M.,2S1. 

D'Espremesnil, Duval, 211, 231-233. 

De Stael, Baroness, 253. 

D'Estaing, Count, 163. 

Destruction of the Spanish squadron by 
the British at Cape St. Vincent, 165. 

De Varicourt, M., 281. 

D'Hervill}', Count, 398, 425 et seq. 

D'Huillier, M., 279. 

Disorders in the Assembly, 311, 312. 

30 



Dissolution of the Constitutional Guard, 

392, 393. 
Distress and discontent in France in 
1771, 56, 57; general, caused by the se- 
verity of the winter of 1788-89, 238-240. 
D'Oberlcirch, Madame, 18S, 189. 

Donkey-riding, 50 ; horse-riding, 63. 

D'Orleans, Due, and tlie Due de Chartres 
recalled from banishment, 72; and the 
Archdulje Maximilian, 112 ; shows hos- 
tility to the queen, 224, 225 ; and the 
presidency of the club, "Les Enrages," 
245 ; and the Reveillon riot, 247 ; and 
the Versailles mob, 281 ; leaves Prance 
fi)r England, 290 ; and the red cap, 388. 

D'Ormesson, M., 194. 

D'Orvilliers, Admiral, 153. 

Drouet, M., 345, 346. 

Due d'Aiguillon, 46, 52, 84 ; d'Angouleme, 
120, 170, 179 ; de Brissac, 79, 392 ; de 
Chartres, 72, 119, 153, 249, 250, 388 ; de 
Choisseul, 46, 52, 95, 96 ; de Coigny, 159 ; 
de la Feuillade, 304; de Maine, 154; de 
la Vauguyon, 24, 25, 43, 47, 200 ; de Lian- 
court, 396 ; d'Orleans, 72, 112, 224, 225, 
247, 281, 290, 388; de Richelieu, S5, 86. 

Dugazon, Madame, 367. 

Duke of Brunswick, 412 ; of Normand}-, 
212 ; Paul of Russia, 1S7, 191 ; of Ta- 
rouka, 20, 22. 

Dumout, M., 335. 

Dumouriez, General, character of, 385; 
and the queen, 390-393 ; resigns his po- 
sition as minister, and takes command 
of the army, 393. 

Duportail, M.,316. 

Duranton, M., 384. 

Durepaire, M., 281. 

Durfort, Marquis de, 24, 26. 

Duverney, Paris, 202. 

Education, the queen's views of, 184-18S ; 

268,269. 
Emigrant princes, misconduct of the, 333, 

334. 
Emigration from France repugnant to 

Louis XVI.. 380, 381. 
Emperor Francis of Germany, 21 ; Joseph 

of Austria, 134-137, 196, 197, 293, 294; 

Leopold of Austria, 355. 
Empress Catherine, of Russia, 365, 366; 

Maria Teresa, of Austria, 20-172. 
Encore, the first, 109. 
Epigram of Metastasio, 21. 
Ermenonville, the burial-place of Rous- 
seau, 168. 
Escape from prison by the Countess de la 



466 



INDEX. 



Mothe, 219, 220; the royal family pre- 
paring to, 341-346 ; arrested at Varennes 
aud brought back, 346. 

Esterhazy, Count, 159. 

Etiquette, strictness of court, 45 ; relaxa- 
tion of, 104. 

Ettenheim, Cardinal de Rohan dies at, 222. 

Execution of M. de Favras, 297. 

Expenses, court, retrenchment in, 166. 

Expostulation of the Emperor Maximil- 
ian with his sister, 121, 122. 

Paotioits conduct of the princes of the 
blood, 112. 

Fall of Turgot, 123, 124. 

Favras, M. de, execution of, 297. 

Feast of the Federation, 410, 411. 

Federation, Feast of the, 410, 411. 

Ferdinand, Duke, of Brunswick, 142. 

Fersen, Count Axel de, 172, 173, 341. 

Feudal system, the, in France, and its 
need of reform, 242-244. 

Feuillade's, Due de la, statue of Louis 
XIV., 304. 

Feuillants, les, 384. 

Figaro, the Marriage of, the play of, 202- 
207. 

Fire at the Hotel Dieu, 73 ; at the Palace 
of Justice, 125, 1^6. 

Fire-works, explosion of, at Paris, 39, 40. 

First impressions of the French court, 42. 

Flanders, the regiment of, arrives at Ver- 
sailles, 275. 

Fleurieu, M., 316. 

Fleury, Joly de, 194. 

Flight from Paris decided on, 326-328. 

Fontainebleau, the peasant at, 40 ; grand 
review at, 6S. 

Fontauges, M., de, 303. 

Forgeries of the queen's name committed, 
129, 130, 214^221. 

Fouquier, Tiuville, M., 455. 

France and Germany, feelings in, regard- 
ing Marie Antoinette's marriage, 33 ; dis- 
tress and discontent in 1771 in, 56, 57. 

Francis, Emperor of Germany, death of, 
21. 

Frost, severe, and the Seine frozen over, 



Gaillok, Castle of, 411. 
Gambling, court, 44, 127, 128. 
Garden-parties given at the Trianon, 115, 

116. 
General Beauharnais, 347 ; Dumouriez, 

385, 390-393. 
General rejoicings, 179. 



Gensonn^, M., 370. 

Germany, death of Francis, emperor of, 
21; and France, feelings in, regarding 
Marie Antoinette's marriage, 33. 

Gibraltar, siege of, 192. 

Gifts of Le Joyeuse Avenement and La 
Ceinture de la Reine renounced, 95. 

Girondins, rise of the, 369, 370 ; fall of the, 
449. 

Gluck appointed to teach the harpsichord, 
23 ; visits Paris, 109, 110. 

Goethe, 28. 

Goldsmith's prediction of a French revo- 
lution, 56. 

Grains, war of the, 113. 

Grammont, Countess de, 47, 51. 

Grasse, Count de, 192. 

Guadel, M., 370. 

Guimenee, Princess de, 127, 141, 178, 184. 

Guines, Due de, 159. 

Gustavus IIL, King of Sweden, at the 
French court, 207-209. 

HoESE-KACiNG by Comte d'Artois, 119. 

Hotel de Ville, banquet at the, on account 
of the birth of the dauphin, 182 ; storm- 
ing of the, by the insurgents, July, 1789, 
260. 

Hotel Dieu, great fire at, 73. 

Hughes, Sir E., fights with M. de Suffrein, 
192, 193. 

Hunting -field, Marie Antoinette in the, 
68-70. 

Huttes, M. des, 281. 

Ix-LtTMiNATiONs lu Paris at the birth of the 
dauphin, 1S3. 

Income, settlement of, 51. 

Indictment drawn up against the queen, 
386. 

Inscription on a snow pyramid erected in 
gratitude by the Parisians for the char- 
ity they received from their queen in 
the winter of 17SS-'89, 239. 

Insolence shown to the queen by a vira- 
go, 289. 

Insurgents, the, under Santerre, 421-423. 

Insurrection in Paris, July, 1789, 259 ; of 
June 20th, 1792, 395-404 ; of August 5th, 
1792, 416 et seq. 

Intrigues formed against Marie Antoi- 
nette, 45-47, 52, 53, 170 ; of Madame Ad- 
elaide, 66-68. 

" Iphigenie," opera of, 136. 

Jacobin Club, the, 303, 304. 
Jarjayes, Madame de, 444 et seq. 



INDEX. 



46V 



Jason and Medea, tapestry representing 
the history of, 28. 

Jealousy shown by the queen's favorites, 
141 ; of the Countess du Barri, 40-44; of 
the auuts, 48 ; of Austrian influence, 
313, 314. 

Jewelry and Boehmer, the court jeweler, 
214-221. 

Josephine Louise, Princess of Savoy, mar- 
ried to the Count de Provence, 60. 

Joseph, Emperor of Austria, visits France 
incognito, IZi, 1Z1 \ writes to his sister 
on European politics, 196, 197 ; death of, 
293, 294. 

Jussieu, Bernard de, 115. 

Justice, remarkable, always shown by the 
queen, 217. 

Kaunitz, Prince, 166, 387. 

Keppel, Admiral, 153. 

King Gustavus III. of Sweden visits the 

French court, 207-209. 
Korflf, Madame de, 342. 

La. Belle Liegeoise, 397. 

Lacoste, M.,384. 

Lacy, Marshal, 84, 85. 

Lady .\ilesbury, 110, 111 ; Sutherland, 433. 

La Fayette, Marquis de, 146 ; and the Na- 
tional Guard, 265, 276-286; and Mira- 
beau, 290, 291 ; demands the suppression 
of titles, 305 ; ofTered the sword of the 
Constable of France, which he declines, 
308 ; shows insolence to the royal fami- 
ly, 321 ; threatens the queen with a di- 
vorce, 324 ; saves the castle at Vincennes, 
331 ; insults the nobles who come to pro- 
tect the king, 332 ; his urgency to bring 
back the king, who had been arrested 
in his flight, 348 ; arrogance of, 352-354 ; 
shows personal animosity to the king, 
375 ; ordered to prepare for foreign serv- 
ice, 381 ; unskillfulness of, 387, 3SS ; shows 
much deficiency in military tactics, 406- 
408; appears before the Assembly, and 
narrowly escapes impeachment, 408,409, 
416 ; proposes a plan for the royal fami- 
ly to escape, 410, 411 ; flies from France, 
and is thrown into an Austrian prison, 
433. 

Lamballe, Princess de, 122, 141, 160, 272, 
436. 

Lambel, M.,305. 

Lambert, M., 316. 

Lameth, Alexander, 304, 330. 

Lameth, Charles, 305. 

Lamoignon, M., 230. 



Lamourette, Bishop, makes a motion iu 
the Assembly, 410. 

La Muette, at Choisy, palace of, 87, 181. 

Lanjuinais, M., 439, 449. 

Leopold, Emperor of Austria, remon- 
strates with the French government, 
355. 

Le Patriate Franiais, 370. 

Lepitre, M., 445. 

Les Enrages, a political club formed un- 
der the presidency of the Due d'Orleans, 
245. 

"Les fivenements Imprevus," 307. 

Lessart, M. de, 316, 370, 387. 

Letters from Maria Teresa to her daugh- 
ter. See Maria Teresa. From Marie 
Antoinette to her mother. See Marie 
Antoinette. 

Liancourt, Due de, 396. 

Libelous attacks on the queen, 170, 240, 
389, 391. 

Liberty, Restorer of French, a title given 
to the king, 273. 

Lichtenstein, Prince de, sent as envoy 
from Austria, 313, 314. 

Lomenie de Brienne, Archbishop of Ton- 
louse, appointed prime minister, 194, 
229, 230; resigns oflice, 236. 

Lord Carlisle, 147 ; Stormont, 72. 

Lorraine, Prince of, 29 ; death of, 169. 

Lorraine, Princess of, at the State ball, 38. 

Louis XIV., the Due de la Feuillade's 
statue of, 304, 305. 

Louis XV., character and life of, 34, 35; 
apathy of, 57, 58; catches the small- 
pox, 85 ; death of, 86. 

Louis XVI., receives homage on the death 
of his grandfather, 87 ; influenced by his 
aunts, 91, 92; gives the pavilion of the 
Little Trianon to the queen, 98, 99 ; com- 
pared to Louis XII. and Henry IV., HI ; 
crowned at Eheims, 114; concludes an 
alliance with the United States, 145 ; exr 
empts from the poll-tax all those una- 
ble to pay on the occasion of the birth 
of the dauphin, 182 ; visits Cherbourg, 
224 ; orders the arrest of two members 
of Parliament, and also the closing-up 
of the House, 232, 233 ; conspicuous for 
his charity daring the winter of 1788-'9, 
238-240; concedes the chief demands 
of the Commons, 246; opens the States 
in person, May 5th, 17S9, 250-252; loses 
his eldest son, the dauphin, June 4th, 
1789, 256 ; grants reforms to the States, 
256 ; removes Necker, 258 ; withdraws 
the troops from Paris, 262, 263 ; visits 



468 



INDEX. 



Paris, and appeals to the populace, July 
17th, 17S9, 265-267; invites Necker to 
return, 264; called the "Restorer of 
French Liberty," 273 ; sends his plate 
to be melted down for the benefit of 
the starving citizens, 274 ; adheres to 
his conciliatory policy before the mob 
at Versailles, 278 -280; fixes his resi- 
dence at Paris, 286 ; accepts the Consti- 
tution so far as it has been settled, 299 ; 
accepts the services of the Count de 
Mirabeau, 301 ; oflFers La Fayette the 
svFord of the Constable of France, which 
he declines, 308; appears at the fete at 
the Champs de Mars, 308 ; contemplates 
foreign intervention, 320; decides to re- 
move to Montmedy, 327 ; report of at- 
tempted assassination of, 331, 332; re- 
proves the nobles for coming to his aid, 
332; forbidden; to remove more than 
twenty leagues from Paris, 336 ; urged 
to escape, 338-340; escapes, and is ar- 
rested and brought back, 344-349; ac- 
ceptance of the new Coustitutiou by the 
king, 366; dissolves the first constituent 
assembly, 368 ; refuses his assent to the 
decrees against the priests and emi- 
grants, 380 ; issues a circular condem- 
ning emigration, 380, 381 ; apathy of, 388, 
389; made to put on the red cap of lib- 
erty, 400 ; a plot discovered to assassin- 
ate, 409 ; appears at the Feast of Feder- 
ation, 410 ; holds his last ball, August 
5th, 1792, 415, 416; reviews the troops 
for the last time, 419, 420 ; appeals to 
the Assembly for protection, 422 et seq. ; 
receives notice that his authority is a 
nullity, 427, 423 ; made prisoner with his 
wife and family, 428, 429; sent to the 
Temple, 431; trial of, 438 et seq.; in- 
sults offered to, 437 et seq.; condemned 
to death, 439 ; execution of, 441. 

Louvre, visit by the dauphin and dau- 
phiness to the, 81. 

Luckner, Marshal, 381. 

Luxembourg, Count de, and the military 
banquet at Versailles, 275. 

Luzerne, M. de., 283. 

" Madame Deficit," a nickname given to 

the queen, 225. 
Madame Royale refused in marriage to 

the Due de Chartres, 249, 250. 
Maillard, M., and the insurgents of 1789, 

276. 
Mailly, Marshal de, 416. 
Maine, Duke de, 154. 



Malesherbes, M., 439. 

Malouet, M.,366. 

Mandat, M., 417-419; assassination of, 419. 

Maudense, Abbe, 85. 

Marat, M., denounces the queen, 314, 315. 

Marchioness de Tourzel, 267-269. 

Marck, Count de la, 173, 290, 301, 302, 306, 
324, .^25. 

Maria Teresa, Empress of Austria, her 
habits and life, 20-23; her feelings at 
the departure of her daughter, 27 ; letter 
from, to the dauphin, 34; letter of ad- 
vice to her daughter, 36, 37 ; appoints 
Comte de Mercy as Embassador to 
France, 37 ; letters from Marie Antoi- 
nette to, 42-44 ; advice to Marie Antoi- 
nette, 59, 60 ; disapproval of her daugh- 
ter appearing in the hunting-field, 68- 
70 ; expresses her approval of her daugh- 
ter's liberality, 74 ; receives a letter from 
her daughter on her state entrance into 
Paris, 77, 78 ; anxieties about her daugh- 
ter since her accession as queen of 
France, 90, 91 ; cautions her daughter 
against extravagances, 99, 100 ; admon- 
ishes her daughter, 130, 131 ; solicits an 
alliance between France and Austria 
against Prussia, 147 ; writes about the 
birth of her daughter's child, 156 ; death 
of, 170-172. 

Marie Antoinette, importance of, in the 
French Revolution of 17S9, 17 ; estima- 
tion of her character formed from her 
correspondences, 17, 18 ; her birth, No- 
vember 2d, 1755, 20; her childhood, 21, 
22 ; projects for her marriage, 22 ; her 
education, 22 ; proposal of marriage to 
the dauphin, 24; leaves Vienna April 
26th, 1770, 26; Strasburg, reception at, 
28; at Soissons, 30; meeting the king 
and dauphin at Compi^gne, 30, 31 ; visits 
the Princess Louise at the Convent of 
St. Denis, 31 ; married at Versailles, May 
16th, 1770, 32 ; difficulties in the path of, 
35, 36; courage in her conduct, 36; let- 
ter of advice from her mother, 36, 37 ; 
her sympathy with the sufferers at the 
fire-work explosion at Paris and with the 
peasant at Fontainebleau pleases the 
king and the people, 39, 40 ; description 
of her personal appearance, 40, 41 ; writes 
to her mother, giving her first impres- 
sions of the court and of her own posi- 
tion and prospects, 42-44 ; dislike to the 
court etiquette, 45 ; intrigues formed 
against, 45^7 ; jealousy of the aunts, 48; 
addresses from Paris and the states of 



INDEX. 



469 



Lauguedoc, 4S ; gaining popularity, 48, 
49 ; expresses a wish to learn to ride, 49 ; 
donkey-riding, 50 ; settlement of income 
upon, 51; introduces sledging parties 
into France, 53 ; gains admiration from 
her husband, 55; advice of Maria Te- 
resa, 5S, 59; growing preference of 
Louis XV. for, 61 ; becomes a horse- 
woman, 63; applying herself to study, 
64, 65 ; taste for music acquired by, 65 ; 
appears at a review at Fontaiuebleau, 
68; in the hunting-field, 68-70; writes 
to her mother early in 1773, 71 ; liber- 
ality shown by, to the sufferers by the 
fire at the Hotel Dieu, 73 ; receives ap- 
proval from her mother, 74 ; expresses 
her feelings about Poland, 75 ; state en- 
trance of, into Paris, 79, 80 ; writes to her 
mother, 77, 78 ; presiding at the banquet 
of the Dames de la Halle, 80 ; visiting 
the Parisian theatres, 81 ; writes to her 
mother on the death of Louis XV., 88- 
90; shows her good character upon her 
accession as queen of France, 9^-95; 
procures the recall from banishment of 
the Due de Choiseul, 95, 96 ; receives 
from the king the pavilion of the Lit- 
tle Trianon, 98, 99 ; desires for private 
friendships and constant anmsements, 
101, 102; accused of Austrian prefer- 
ences, 104j__105; receives increased al- 
lowance as queen, 108; visited by the 
Archduke Maximilian, 111 ; writes to 
her mother on the coronation of the 
king, 114, 115 ; gives garden parties at 
Trianon, 116; beauty of, 116, 117; shows 
her mortification at not having children, 
120 ; speaks disparagingly of the king, 
120, 121 ; writes to her mother extolling 
the French people, 125, 126 ; indulges at 
the play-table, 127 ; finds herself in debt 
and forgeries of her name committed, 
129, 130 ; receives the Duke of Dorset 
and others with favor, 132 ; receives a 
visit from her brother, the Emperor of 
Austria, 134-137; writes to her mother 
concerning the emperor's visit, 137, 138 ; 
receives a letter of advice from her 
brother on his departure from France, 
138-140 ; inviting the king's ministers 
to the Little Trianon, 143 ; writes polit- 
ical letters, 1 49-151 ; expects to become 
a mother, 151 ; declines to receive Vol- 
taire on his return to France, 152 ; gives 
birth to a daughter, whom she names 
Marie Therese Charlotte, 155 ; goes to 
Notre Dame Cathedral to return thanks, 



158 ; goes in a 'hackney-coach to a bal 
d'opera, 159 ; is attacked by measles, 

159 ; writes to her mother about the war 
between France and England, 161-163 ; 
studies politics, 165; ^engages in private 
theatricals, 168 ; writes to her mother in 
the midst of her troubles, 169 ; exhibits 
great grief at the death of her mother, 
170-172; gives birth to a son, the dau- 
phin of France, 177, 178; on education, 
184-186; receives M. de Suffrein with 
great honor, 193 ; receives a letter from 
her brother, the Emperor of Austria, ou 
European politics, and replies to it, 196- 
200; St. Cloud is bought for, 210; gives 
birth to the Duke of Normandy, 212 ; 
finds that her name has been forged and 
misrepresentations made for procuring 
a necklace made by Boehmer, 215 ; re- 
ceives a visit from her sister, the Prin- 
cess of Tescheu, 224; is treated with 
hostility by the Due d'Orleans, 224, 225 ; 
receives the nickname of "Madame De- 
ficit," 225; loses her second daughter, 
the Princess Sophie, 226; writes two 
political letters to the Duchess de Poli- 
guac, 227,_22S.; writes to Mercy ou the 
present political state of affairs, Au- 
gust 19th, 1788, 2 35. 236 : conspicuous for 
her charity during a severe winter, 238- 
240 ; has serious views about the de- 
mands of the commons, 246; refuses to 
accept the Due de Chartres for husband 
to her daughter Madame Royale, 249, 
250; attends the opening of the States, 
25 0, 251 ; loses her eldest son, the dau- 
phin, June 4ih, 17S9, 256 ; writes to the 
Duchess de Polignac on the States' af- 
fairs, 258, 259-, writes to the Marchioness 
de Tourzel, intrusting to her the educa- 
tion of her children, 268, 269 ; rejects Bar- 
nave's overtures, 272 ; is remarkable for 
her bravery, 282-286 ; writes to Mercy 
about her feelings at the present aspect 
of affairs, 288, 289 ; receives insolence 
from a virago, 289 ; feels the death of 
her brother, the Emperor Joseph IL of 
Austria, 293, 294 ; writ-es to her brother 
Leopold, who succeeded Joseph II., 293, 
294; refuses to give evidence against 
the mob rioters, 295, 296 ; shows kind 
feeling toward the widowed Marchioness 
de Favras, 298 ; makes a speech to the 
deputies, 299, 300; is well received at 
the theatre, 300 ; receives the services 
of the Count de Mirabeau, 301, 302 ; in- 
terviews him, 305, 306; shows her pres- 



470 



INDEX. 



eiice of mind at the fete at the Champ 
de Mars, SOS, 309 ; writes to Mercy about 
the dilHculty of managing Mirabeau, 
312 ; has to bid farewell to Mercy, who 
is removed to the Hague, 312 ; gives au- 
dience to Prince de Lichteustein, 313 ; 
denounced by Marat, 314, 315; attempts 
made to assassinate, 315; writes to the 
Emperor of Austria, her brother Leo- 
pold, October 22d, 1T90, 318 ; refuses to 
quit France by herself, 323 ; is threaten- 
ed with a divorce by La Fayette, 324; 
writes to the Comte d'Artois, expostu- 
lating with him, 333; writes to her 
brother to send troops to intervene, 
337; escapes from Paris with her family, 
and is arrested and brought back, 344^ 
349 ; writes to De Fersen, 352 ; writes 
to her brother. Emperor Leopold, 357- 
860 ; sends a letter to Mercy about the 
Revolution, 360-363; writes to Mercy 
about the declaration of Pilnitz and the 
Constitution, 364, 365 ; declares her feel- 
ings in a letter to the Empress Catherine 
of Russia, 365, 366 ; M. Bertrand and the 
queen, 377, 378; receives news of the 
death of her brother Leopold, the Em- 
peror of Austria, 382-3S4; direct at- 
tacks made against, 386-392 ; Dumouriez 
speaks his mind strongly to, 390-393; 
appears before the insurrectionists at 
the Tuileries, June 20th, 1798, 395-404; 
writes to Mercy, July 4th, 1792, 404, 405 ; 
receives proposals for her escape, 405; 
writes to the Landgravine Louise, 405, 
406; employs her time in quilting her 
husband a waistcoat to resist a dagger 
or a bullet, 409 ; attempt made to assas- 
sinate, 409 ; determines to sacrifice per- 
sonal safety to loss of the crown and 
Constitution, 412-414; made prisoner 
with her husband, 428, 429 ; plans form- 
ed for the escape of, ftiil, 444 et seq. ; ad- 
ditional insults offered to, 445 et seq. ; has 
a trial and is sentenced, 455^57; writes 
a final letter to the Princess Elizabeth, 
458, 459 ; is executed, 460, 461 ; her re- 
mains treated with indignity., 461 ; sum- 
mary of the character of, 4fiji 462. 

Maritime superiority possessed by En- 
gland, 146. 

Marly, palace at, 42. 

Marmier, Madame de, 89. 

Marquis d'Agoust, 232, 233; de Bouille, 
163, 193, 810 ; de Condorcet, 386 ; de Dnr- 
fort, 24, 26 ; de La Payette, 146, 265, 276, 
433; de Montesquieu, 206; de Savo- 



niferes, 279 ; de St. Huruge, 397 ; de Vau- 
dreuil, 282. 

"Marriage of Figaro," the play of the, 
202-207. 

Marriage of Marie Antoinette to the Dau- 
phin of France, May 16th, 1770, 32; feel- 
ings in Germany and France regarding 
the, 33. 

Marsan, Madame de, 190. 

Marseillese, the, 428. 

Marshal Beaulieu, 388; de Broglie, 142, 
257, 258 : de Mailly, 416 ; Lacy, 84, 85 ; 
Luckner, 381 ; Rochambeau, 381. 

Maubourg, M. Latour, 349. 

Maurepas, Count de, 107, 148, 200. 

Maximilian, Archduke, visits his sister, 
111. 

Mazarin, Madame de, 89. 

Measles, the qu«en is attacked by the, 159. 

Mercy, Comte de, appointed as embassa- 
dor to France, 37 ; reports to Maria Te- 
resa, 41 ; position and influence of, upon 
the accession of Louis XVL, 90; re- 
ceives letters from the queen on the 
political state of affairs, 285, 236 ; replies 
to the same, 236; introduces Count de 
Mirabeau to the queen, 301 ; receives let- 
ter from the queen about Mirabeau, 312 ; 
is removed to the Hague, 312 ; the queen 
writes urgently to, 338-840. 

Metastasio, epigram of, 21. 

Michonis, M.,447. 

Miomandre, M., 281. 

Mirabeau, Count de, and court etiquette, 
104; and his conjugal rights, 217; his 
character, 253, 254 ; his behavior at the 
opening of the States, 253 - 256 ; drives 
Necker from office, and presents a peti- 
tion to the king to withdraw the troops 
from Paris, 258 ; changes his views, 295, 
296 ; his services accepted by the court, 
301 ; denounced by the Jacobin club, 303 ; 
interviews the queen, and is pleased 
with her, 305, 306 ; interviews the Count 
de la Marck, 806, 307 ; great difficulty in 
managing, 312; retires from office, 316; 
stands by the queen, 324 ; death of, 334 ; 
funeral of, 835. 

Mob at Versailles, 27S-2S0. 

Moleville, M. Bertrand de, 372, 373, 378, 
411. 

Monuier, Countess de, and the Count de 
Mirabeau, 253, 254. 

Montesquieu, Marquis de, 206. 

Montgoliier's balloons introduced, 208. 

Montniedy, 327. 

Montmorency, Viscount Matthieu de, 305. 



INDEX. 



4Y1 



Montmorin, M., 316, 355. 

Montsabei-t, M., arrest of, 232, 233. 

Moreau, M., 2S1. 

Mothe, Countess de la, 215-221, 323. 

Murder of Maiidat, 419 ; of the Princess 

de Lamballe, 436. 
Music, great taste for, exhibited by the 

dauphiness, 65. 
Mutiny iu the Marquis de Bouille's army, 

310. 
Mutual jealousies of the queen's favorites, 

141. 
Mysore, Tippoo Sahib, sultan of, 377. 

Narbonne, Count de, 373. 

" National Assembly," the, lirst proposed, 
252. 

National Guard, formation of the, 265; 
fires on the people, 358. 

Necker, M., 163, 164, 166 ; retires from the 
ministry, 174 ; invited to rejoin, and de- 
clines, 234-236; appointed prime minis- 
ter, 236, 237; aims at popularity, 245; 
convokes the States -general, 247-250; 
resumes office, 270. 

Necklace made by Boehmer, the court 
jeweler, 214-221; story of the, revived, 
323, 324, 389. 

Noailles, Countess de, 45. 

Normandy, Duke of, 212. 

Notables, the Calonne, assembles, 227; 
Lomenie de Brienne dismisses, 230. 

Notre Dame, public thanksgiving at, on 
account of the birth of Madame Royale, 
158 ; also on the occasion of the birth 
of the dauphin, 182. 

Oliva, Mademoiselle, and the great neck- 
lace forgery case, 217-219. 

Opera of "Iphigenie en Aulide" perform- 
ed in Paris, 109, 136. 

Opinion of foreign nations, 355. 

Outrages in the provinces in 1789, 270. 

Overthrow of the Girondins, 449. 

Paris Duyerney, 202. 

Paris, fire-work explosion at, 39, 40 ; state 
entrance of the dauphin and Marie An- 
toinette into, 77-80; great scarcity in, 
September, 1789, 274 ; riots in, 23S ; and 
the Reveillon riot, 247, 248, 261 ; riots 
in, July, 1789, 259 ; the court removes to, 
284; insurrection in, June 20th, 1792, 
395-404; riots in, August 5th, 1792, 416 
et seq. 

Parliament, violence of the, 231-233; ar- 
rest of two of its members, 238 ; clos- 



ing-up of, by the king's order, 233; re- 
call of, by Necker, 238. 

Pastoret, M., 371. 

Paul, Grand Dulce of Russia, visits the 
French court with his wife, 187-191. 

Peace restored between Prussia and Aus- 
tria, 161 ; between France and England, 
195. 

Peasant, the, at Fontainebleau, 40. 

People^s Friend, The, a newspaper publish- 
ed by the Revolutionists, 314. 

Petion, M., 349, 355, 370, 376, 449. 

Pilnitz, declaration of, 364. 

Poland, the partition of, 75. 

Polastron, Madame de, 379. 

Polignac, Countess de, 122, 141, 184, 227, 
228, 264. 

Political clubs springing up in Paris, 245. 

Poll-tax, exemptions from, made by Louis 
XVI., 182. 

Popularity of Marie Antoinette, increas- 
ing, 48, 49. 

Prince Charles of Lorraine, death of, 169 ; 
de Conti, 264 ; de Lichteustein sent as 
envoy from Austria, 313, 314 ; Ferdinand 
of Brunswick, 142 ; Kaunitz, 166, 387 ; 
Cardinal Louis de Rohan, 29, 189, 190, 
215-222. 

Princess Adelaide, 66-68, 89 ; Clotilde, 117 ; 
de Guimenee, 127, 141, 178, 184; de Lam- 
balle, 122, 141, 160, 272, 436; Josephine 
Louise of Savoy, 60 ; of Lorraine, 38 ; 
Sophie of France, 226 ; of Tescheu, 224 ; 
Victoire, 380. 

Private theatricals, 168. 

Provence, Count de, married to the Prin- 
cess Josephine Louise of Savoy, 60, 67, 
70, 71, 97, 143, 144, 157, 176, 379. 

Provence, Countess de, 160. 

Provinces, outrages in the, 270, 310. 

Prussia allies with Russia, 153; and the 
declaration of Pilnitz, 364. 

Public thanksgiving at the birth of Ma- 
dame Royale, 158; at the birth of the 
dauphin, 181, 182. 

Race -COURSE established in the Bois de 
Boulogne, 119. 

Ramond, M., 408. 

Red cap of liberty worn, 388. 

Reform, the necessity of, generally admit- 
ted, 241-244; granted by Louis XVL, 
256. 

Rejoicings, general, in France at the birth 
of the princess, 157 ; at the birth of the 
dauphin, 179. 

Republic declared, 437. 



472 



INDEX. 



"Restorer of French Liberty," title given 
to the king, 273. 

Retaux de Villette, 221. 

Retrenchment in conrt expenditure, 166. 

Reveillou, M., and the Paris riot, 24T, 248. 

Revolution of 1789 commeuced, 257. 

Revolutionary tribunal, 435 et seq. ; trial 
of the queen, 455. 

Rheims, coronation of Louis XVI. at, 114. 

Richelieu, Due de, 85, 86. 

Ride, Marie Antoinette expresses a wish 
to learn to, 49 ; doukey-ridiug, 50. 

Riding, donkey, 50 ; horse, 63. 

Riots, formidable in some of the prov- 
inces, 234; in Paris, 238; the Reveillou, 
in Paris, 247, 248 ; in Paris, July, 1789, 
259 ; in Paris, June 20th, 1792, 395-404 ; 
in Paris, August 5th, 1792, 416 et seq. 

Robespierre, M., 353, 355, 356. 

Rochambeau, Marshal, 381. 

Roche-Aymer, Couui de, 85. 

Rodney, Admiral, 165, 192. 

Roederer, M., 397, 418, 421 et seq. 

Rohan, Cardinal Priuce de, 29, 189, 190, 
215-222. 

Roland, Madame, urging secret assassina- 
tion of the king and queen, 259, 260 ; and 
Robespierre, 353, 370, 371, 384, 385 ; death 
of, 449. 

Romeuf, M., 347, 348. 

" Rose of the North," a name given to the 
Countess de Fersen, 173. 

Rosenburg, Count de, 120. 

Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 168. 

Royal family, the, preparing to escape, 
341-346; arrested, 346; authority sus- 
pended, 427, 428. 

Royalists, the name first used as a re- 
proach, 238. 

Russia allies with Prussia, 153 ; Grand 
Duke of, visits the French court, 187-191; 
Catherine Empress of, 365, 366. 

Sabkan, Abb^ de, 89. 

Sahib, Tippoo, Sultan of Mysore, 371. 

Salis, M. de, 425, 426. 

Sans-culottes, 383. 

Santerrc, M., and the attack on the Bas- 

tile, 262 ; and the Paris insurrection, 

401-403 ; and the insurgents, 421-423. 
Sartines, M. de, 192. 
Savonidres, Marquis de, 279. 
Scarcity of food iu Paris in Septeml)er, 

1789, 274. 
Schonbrunn, retreat at, 21. 
Seine, water -parties on the, 126, 127; 

frozen over, 238. 



Seven Years' War, the, 142. 

Severity of the winter of 17SS-'89 much felt 
in France, 23S-240. 

Seville, the Barber of, the play of, 203. 

Seze, M. de, 439. 

Sieycs, Abbe, 386. 

Simolin, M., 335. 

Simon, M., and the young king, 450 et seq. 

Sir Edward Hughes, 192, 193. 

Sledging-parties, 53, 54. 

Small -pox caught by Louis XV., 85; 
caught by Madame Adelaide, 89. 

Snow pyramids and obelisks erected, and 
inscriptions made on them showing the 
French people's gratitude for the char- 
ity displayed by the queeu in the winter 
of 1788- 89, 239. 

Soissons, 30. 

Songs of the Dames de la Halle on the oc- 
casion of the birth of the dauphin, 180. 

Sophie Helene Beatrice, Princess, born 
July 9th, 1786, died June 9th, 1787, 226. 

Sovereign of France, arbitrary powers of 
the, 243. 

Spain and France form an alliance against 
the British, 162. 

Spanish squadron destroyed by the Brit- 
ish, 165. 

St. Anthony's Day, 74. 

St. Cloud, visit of the dauphin and dau- 
phiness to, 81 ; purchased for the queeu, 
210. 

St. Huruge, Marquis de, 397. 

St. Priest, Count d«, 278. 

St. Targeau, M. de, 305. 

St, Menehould, the king recognized at, 
while escaping from France, 345. 

Stael, Baroness de, at the opening of the 
States, 253 ; and the queen's last days, 
453 et seq. 

States-general, need for a meeting of the, 
240-246 ; opening of the, by Louis XVI., 
May 5th, 1789, 250-252; uproar in, 256- 
258. 

Statue of Louis XIV., by the Due de la 
Feuillade, 304. 

Stedingk, Count de, 172, 178. 

Storniont, Lord, 72. 

Strasburg, reception at, 29. 

Strausse, M., 347. 

Successes of the English in America, 169. 

Suffrein, Bailli de, fights with Sir E. 
Hughes, 192, 193. 

Sultan of Mysore, 377. 

Supper-parties, court, 102. 

Sutherland, Lady, supplies clothes for the 
dauphin, 433. 



INDEX. 



473 



Sweden, Gastavus III., King of, at the 

French coui't, 207-209 ; assassination of 

the King of, 3S2. 
Swedish nobles received at the French 

court, 172. 
Swiss Guard, under Count d'Hervilly, 398, 

425 ; murder of the, 426, 427. 

Tabottreau des Reatjx, M., 175. 
Talleyrand, Bishop of Autun, 308. 
Tarouka's, Duke of, wager, 20, 21. 
Taxes imposed on the accession of a king 

and queen renounced, 95. 
Tea, introduction of, into France, 119. 
Temple, the, 481 et seq. 
Teresa, Maria. See Maria Teresa. 
Tertre, Duport de, 316. 
Teschen, peace of, 148 ; Princess of, visits 

her sister, the queen, in 1780, 224. 
Thanksgiving, public, at the Cathedral of 

Notre Dame, 158, 181, 182. 
"The Handsome," a name given to the 

Count Axel de Fersen, 173. 
Theatre, tumult at the, 307. 
Theatres, the dauphin and dauphiness 

visiting the Parisian, 81. 
Theatricals, private, 168. 
Tison, Madame, and the queen, 450 et seq. 
Titles of honor, abolition of, 305. 
Tocqueville's, M. Alexis de, opinion of the 

feudal system in France, 242. 
Toulan, M., and Marie Antoinette, 442. 
Toulouse, Lomeuie de Brieune, Archbish- 
op of, 194. 
Tourzel, Marchioness de, 267 - 269 ; the 

queen writes, intrusting her children to 

the care of, 268, 269 ; assumes the name 

of Madame de Korff, 342. 
Trial of Cardinal de Rohan and others fm- 

forgery, 218-222 ; of the king, December 

nth, 1792, 438 cist'^. 
Trianon, Little, pavilion of the, given to 

the queen, 98, 99 ; the queen at the, 115 ; 

parties at the, 143 ; festivities at the, 189 ; 

the queen improving the, 208. 
Tricolor flag adopted in Paris, 261. 
Tronchet, M., 439. 
Tuileries, shabbiuess of the, and removal 

of the court to the, 286. 



Turgot, A. R. J., 107 ; 

tice, 123-125. 
Turgy, M., 444. 



dismissal from of- 



UsAGKS, French and Austrian, 104, 105. 

Vat.enciennks, a frontier town, 326, 327. 

Valory, M., 344-.S46. 

Varenues, the king is arrested at, in his 
flight from Paris, 346. 

Varicourt, M. de, 281. 

Vaudreuil, Count de, 122, 123, 205. 

Vaudreuil, Marquis de, 282. 

Vauguyou, Due de la, 24, 25, 43, 47, 200. 

Vergennes, Count de, 96, 200-207. 

Vergniaud, M., 370, 376, 384. 

Vermond, Abbe de, 22, 47, 43. 

Versailles, Marie Antoinette and Louis 
married at, May 16th, 1770, 32 ; less fre- 
quented, 130 ; winter of 1779, 167, 168, 
279, 284. 

Veto, debates on the, 273; "Monsieur" 
and "Madame," nicknames to the king 
and queen, 395-397. 

Victoire, Princess, 330. 

Vienna, Marie Antoinette, leaviug, April 
26th, 1770, 26. 

Ville de Paris, ship, 216. 

Villette, Marquis de, 439. 

Vincennes, castle at, attacked by the mob, 
331. 

Violence of the Parliament, 231-233. 

Viscount Matthieu de Montmorency, 305. 

Volatile character of the queen, 132. 

Voltaire's remark about the maritime su- 
periority of England, 146 ; return to 
France, and his death, 152, 153. 

Walpole's, Hoeaor, observations on the 

beauty of the queen, 117. 
War of the Grains, 113; the Seven Years', 

142; the American, 145-147; between 

France and England, 153 ; declared 

against Austria, 387. 
Water-parties on the Seine, t26, 127. 
West Indies, French successes in the, 163. 
Winter of 1783, severity of, 195; of 1788- 

'89, much distress in France in the, 238- 

240. 



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We value it on account of its impartiality. We have found nothing to in- 
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or any party. His very patriotism, though high-principled and sincere, is 
sober and discriminate, and appears to be held' in strong check by the con- 
trolling recollection that he is writing for posterity, and that if the facts 
which he publishes will not honor his country and his countrymen, fulsome 
adulation will not add to their glory. — N. Y. Covimereial .A.dvertiser. 

We are confident that when the merits of this history come to be known 
and appreciated it will be extensively regarded as decidedly superior to any 
thing that before existed on American history, and as a valuable contribu- 
tion to American authorship. These stately volumes will be an ornament 
to any library, and no intelligent American can afford to be without the 
Avork. We have nobly patronized the great English history of the age ; let 
us not fiiil to appreciate and patronize an American history so respectable 
and valuable as this certainly is.— Bibliotheca Sacra. 

A work which should be in every American's hands. — Springfield RepxiMican. 

It occupies a space which has not yet been tilled, and exhibits character- 
istics both of design and of composition which entitle it to a distinguished 
place among the most important productions of American genius and schol- 
arship. We welcome it as a simple, faithful, lucid, and elegant narrative of 
the great events of American history. It is not written in illustration of any 
favorite theory, it is not the expression of any ideal system, but an honest 
endeavor to present the facts in question in the pure, uncolored light of truth 
and reality. The impartiality, good judgment, penetration, and diligent re- 
search of the author are conspicuous in its composition. — iV. Y. Tribime. 

His work fills a want, and is therefore most welcome. Its positive merits, 
in addition to those we have before mentioned, are impartiality, steadiness 
of view, clear appreciation of character, and, in point of style, a terseness 
and conciseness not unlike Tacitus, with not a little, too, of Tacitean vigor 
of thought, stern sense of justice, sharp irony, and profound wisdom. — Meth- 
odist Quarterlij Review. 

The prevailing characteristic of Hildreth's history is its stern and inflex- 
ible impartiality. — Boston Jottrnal. 

The author's grouping of men and events is skillful, and renders his rapid 
narrative pleasant readmg. — N. Y. Evening Post. 

This work professes only to deal in .facts; it is a book of records; it puts ^ 
together clearly, consecutively, and, we believe, with strict impartiality, the ' 
events of American history. The work indicates patient, honest, and care- 
ful research, systematic arrangement, and lucid exposition. — Home Joiirnal. 



HARPER & BROTHERS ■will send the above work by mail, postage 
prepaid, to any part of the United States, on receipt of the price. 



MACAULAY'S 

HISTORY OF E5GLAND. 



The History of England from the Accession of James 
II. By Lord Macaulay. In Five Volumes. 
With elaborate Index. 



Library Edition: 5 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $10 00; 
Sheep, l^-? 50; Half Calf, $21 25. 

Popular Edition: 5 vols., i2mo, Cloth, $5 00; 
Sheep, $7 00; Half Calf, $13 75. 

Cheap Editon: 5 vols., 8vo, Paper, $1 50. 
The volumes are sold separately. 



With the rest of the world we come with our homage to Macaulay. 
There is no occasion for us to quote from Macaulay, to criticise or to 
praise him. Our readers long ago have made their own quotations, se- 
lected their favorite passages, have read again and again every page of his 
history ; and the universal approbation of the world has at once dispensed 
with the necessity of panegyric, and made censure impossible, except to 
those who are ambitious of a foolish singularity. On whatever side we 
look at this book, whether the style of it or the matter of it, it is alike 
astonishing. The style is faultlessly luminous ; every word is in its right 
place ; every sentence is exquisitely balanced ; the current never flags. 
Homer, according to the Roman poet, may be sometimes languid ; Macau- 
lay is always bright, sparkling, attractive. — Westminster Review. 



Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. 



Either of the ahme works sent by mail or express, postage or freight 
prepaid, on receipt of the price. 



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